


The Golden Pear

by Biodiversity (SoraSato)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M, Multi, Obsession, Promiscuity, Smut, Straight Dorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26212042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoraSato/pseuds/Biodiversity
Summary: Erotic adventures of the original female character and the torment of a male Inquisitor.This is a WIP created back in 2018.P.S. I'm fine with all kinds of comments ;)If you want to take ideas or anything, please ask first!
Relationships: Dorian Pavus & Original Female Character(s), Male Inquisitor/Original Female Character
Kudos: 2





	The Golden Pear

Now, there were simply too many new faces at Skyhold for Emhyr to remember them all but when upon entering his quarters he stumbled onto a beautiful blonde in a long pink dress, he twitched.

“Who are you, milady, and what are you doing here?” he asked with curiosity, taking in her unusual features. One could hardly see a woman in a dress outside Val Royeaux, and so pretty at that. She had glistening green eyes, a pair of lovely breasts, thin waist and what looked like wide hips draped in soft pink wool. A perfect beautiful woman radiating health and joy.

She bowed slightly, but without that tacky reverence that he so disliked in others.

“My name's Elen, your lordship. I was checking if you had everything you needed in your room but got distracted by the view from your balcony. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

And she headed towards the door.

But Emhyr was not ready to let her go just yet, for she piqued his curiosity quite strongly.

“Wait, lady Elen, don't run, I'd like to properly make your acquaintance, and in exchange I can offer you a longer view from my balcony.”

She smiled at the playful offering and nodded.

“Agreed.”

He gestured her toward the balcony and followed her there.

The view was indeed breathtaking by any standard.

“So, how do you suggest we get acquainted?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I'd like to know people I work with… Unless you are in a hurry?”

She laughed.

“Not _that_ much, your lordship.”

Emhyr smiled.

“I like the way you say ‘lordship.’ It's… refreshing.”

She smirked.

“After all the bowing and scraping at the hall? I bet… I guess I'm the hundredth person to ask you this, but can you show me the mark?”

The Inquisitor pulled off his left glove and gave her his hand, studying her all along.

“You are free in your manners, but not intrusive,” he commented watching her examine the rift on his palm with sincere fascination.

“Well, getting to know someone works both ways,” she said raising her joyful eyes on him. “I was just making sure you weren't some impostor.”

They both laughed, and it was only when she let go of his hand did he realize how much he liked her touch. It was gentle and accepting, totally trusting.

He licked his lips.

“So, Elen, are you a purveyor of some kind?”

She smiled.

“Sort of. I make lists of what's needed, then I go to the quartermaster, then to the treasury, fight with the treasurer for each coin, then go to merchants and craftsmen and order the items; then, when they arrive I command the legion of workmen… That's about all.”

Emhyr cast a glance into his room.

“So, all this coziness is your doing?”

She nodded.

“Mostly. Your ambassador was at my neck practically all the time.”

Emhyr rolled his head back.

“Ah, dear Josie. She can be super-tenacious.”

He cast another curious glance at the designer.

“So… Are you from Orlais?”

She shook her golden head.

“No. Tevinter.”

“Wow. Are you a mage then?”

She shrugged her delicate shoulders, and the Inquisitor's glance lingered on them.

“Not particularly. But my workmen would be relieved at the news.”

Emhyr chuckled, delighted.

“So you scare them into submission?”

The young woman smiled.

“Sometimes…”

“One of our mages is from Tevinter too…”

“I'm new here, I haven't met many people yet. Moreover, I cannot possibly know all people from Tevinter…”

Emhyr's interest toward Elen grew still. She was spellbinding somehow. It was as if she was radiating warm light, like a morning sun.

“So, why did you come here?”

She looked him in the eyes.

“I like grey eyes…”

He raised his brow, taken off guard.

“Pardon?”

Elen laughed.

“I just don't feel like answering this question. Sorry. Not this time.”

Emhyr laughed with her, slightly disconcerted.

“And there I was thinking you might actually like my eyes!”

She said, still laughing:

“Oh, I do like your eyes, your lordship.”

He rolled his head again.

“Oh that ‘Lordship!’ Do call me Emhyr, please! Nobody else in this bloody place does. Not even my fighting partners.”

“Aaalll right, Emhyr…”

Suddenly they both stopped laughing and looked in each other’s eyes.

Trying to contain himself, the Inquisitor barely touched her cheek, brushing off a strand of her hair.

Then he got a grip on himself and cleared his throat.

“I apologize, lady Elen. Got carried away a bit.”

But she shrugged, smiling.

“The tension of the last weeks takes its toll on us all…”

The Inquisitor tried to read her. Carefully asked:

“Did you come here alone?”

Elen studied him too. At last responded:

“We all came from somewhere. The question is where are we heading now?”

Emhyr's nostrils flared, eyes sparked.

“As for me, the rift on my hand made it impossible for me to return to my prior frivolous lifestyle, and the future for the same reason is blurry at best. So I try to live today.”

The woman smiled and nodded in acknowledgement.

“The World spins between the Golden City and a pile of ashes.”

The way she said it chilled him to the bone.

“You are quite right,” he said.

She nodded to him, smiled and left without another word.

Emhyr grew pensive.

The crowd cheered the return of their idols as it did each time the Herald of Andraste and his crew returned from a mission. The Inquisitor was expected to show up in public afterwards to bring news of his exploits and tell of his adventures.

Emhyr sighed. This public figure thing was worse than an encounter with shades.

He washed himself and opened the wardrobe to change his clothes. An unobtrusive herbal smell met him inside. All his clothes were not only clean as expected but also powdered with fine, sweet-smelling herbs. And instantly, the Inquisitor remembered that beautiful blonde in a rosy dress, the way they'd laughed on the balcony… Strange, but prior to that, he never thought about who made his bed or washed his clothes…

Someone knocked on the door.

“Yes?” he asked absent-mindedly.

His advisor Josephine came in and said:

“Are you ready for the audience? The people have gathered at the hall and are waiting for our report.”

But Emhyr stood still near his wardrobe and was pensively twisting a bit of straw in his fingers.

“Josie…”

“Yes, your Worship?”

“Stop calling me that… Who does my room in my absence?”

“Errr… I think one of the elven maids, milord…”

“Do you know a woman named Elen?”

“Elen?” Josephine seemed puzzled.

“A designer, or purveyor, or some such.”

The ambassador wrinkled her forehead. She hated it when she felt out of her depth. And in front of The Man himself!

At last, she had a strained laughter and shook her head.

“Evidently, you know our staff better than me, your Worship.”

Emhyr frowned.

“Strange. She said you had an argument with her over decorations in my quarters…”

Josephine's forehead cleared.

“Ah, she must be one of the workers here… Elen, you say?”

Emhyr turned to her, as his ear detected something artificial in the woman's voice.

He looked her in the eye and saw that she indeed knew the person in question.

But he played it light and showed her the piece of herb he was holding in his hand.

“Do you know what it’s used for?”

The Antivan laughed, relaxing a bit.

“Of course. It’s against moths. It is probably a new idea of some maid because I found it in my clothes too.”

Emhyr nodded, took out his parade doublet, and closed the wardrobe.

“All right. It's time to go,” he said, putting on his official attire and heading toward the exit.

The gathering went on as usual, the seat was suitably comfortable, and Emhyr started feeling the usual boredom. His fellows talked about their encounters, listed the rifts closed, and the Inquisitor distracted himself by having a view of the people…

Someone shifted his legs, and Emhyr saw a long pink dress, and the curious green stare of the blonde cracker that had been eluding him. Meeting his eyes, she smiled, and he could not help but smile in return.

A few people turned their heads, and still more started to look around when Emhyr gestured her to stay in place and wait for him.

She smiled and shrugged, then pointed at the sun – it was already almost setting.

Emhyr inclined his head with a look that said: “ _Indulge me_.”

The woman rolled her eyes with a little giggle and nodded.

The Inquisitor’s mood somewhat improved, and he listened more attentively to the rest of the report.

Luckily, there were no pleas at this time, and the gathering started to dissipate.

Josephine and Leliana accosted the Inquisitor right after the meeting was over, but he mumbled something inarticulate, brushed them aside, and went to the spot where he had seen the blonde.

At first, he almost thought that she had left, but then saw the hem of her pink dress behind a huge man.

She was chatting with him apparently about some repairs.

“There you are,” beamed the Inquisitor, stepping from behind the giant.

The woman grinned.

“Meet Gandi, our foreman, he is the best, and his crew is awesome. They really know how to build castles!”

Emhyr shook the man's paw and the man smiled in a childish delight.

“Your Worship, it's such an honor! Me’-n me guys doin’ our best of the best for ya!”

“Thank you, Gandi, without you and your men there wouldn't be any Skyhold. You are the bones of the place. Thank you, man!”

The huge Gandi shone with pride and elation.

The Inquisitor politely smiled again and said in a business-like tone:

“I'd love to chat with you some other time, Gandi, but I need to discuss something with lady Elen here first…”

The foreman started nodding vigorously, bowing and moving backwards, and finally left them.

“So,” Emhyr turned to Elen with a sigh of relief. “Where have you been all this time?”

She shrugged her shoulders impishly and drawled:

“Oh, around…”

“Around? No way, I would've seen you.”

She grinned and lifted a brow.

“And you have some extraordinary all-seeing eye to your palm rift to boot?”

He shrugged and insisted:

“The martlet's herb used in my wardrobe does not grow in the mountains, it had to be brought from Orlais.”

She giggled.

“Oh, you are so observant! Did you like the smell?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I could have bought it from our merchants here.”

He looked her in the eyes.

“They need to bring in much more important goods than some herbs.”

Her smile was sly.

“If you think herbs are unimportant, just you wait until moths eat your coat!”

The Inquisitor laughed, delighted.

“I should have thought of that…” he paused, watching the young woman. “You even brought it to Josie! That’s surprising…”

Elen shrugged her shoulders indifferently.

“Why not? I brought it to our First Maid Annariael, and she just distributed it to every wardrobe in the castle.”

“Ouch!”

“What? You are disappointed?”

Emhyr laughed tensely.

“You bet I am! It just looked so much like a… a personal touch.”

She pursed her cute lips.

“It _was_ personal. A small thank you to everybody for their work in this castle.”

Emhyr shook his head vigorously, his lustrous brown hair obscured his face. He removed some annoying strands from his eyes and sighed.

“Damn!... I've been afraid all along that this ‘Herald’ nonsense would get into my head eventually, but I did not expect it to get there so soon!”

She cocked her elegant head and beamed.

“Emhyr, I procured these herbs with you in mind.”

He took her hands in his and started kissing them before he gave himself time to think about any consequences.

“Your Worship!” cried out Josephine in alarm, as she watched the Inquisitor like a hawk, from afar.

He did not react, continuing kissing that blonde pest’s hands.

“Your Worship!” Leliana joined her friend and they both hurried to the pair.

“You cannot do such a thing in public!” exclaimed Josephine in an alarmed hiss, white as paper.

“This is disastrous for the Game!” echoed Leliana, her voice even lower, her lips thin as blades.

Cursing under his breath, the Inquisitor turned to the women. His master-spy continued:

“It can be used against you! It shows your weak spot!”

Emhyr turned to take Elen's hand again but saw that she had disappeared. So, he looked at his two advisors with such wrath that they grew silent for a moment.

But then they recovered and started explaining…

Dusk crept into the war room, and Cullen lit a few torches.

All were tired from the endless arguing and needed a break.

“We’ve been particularly quarrelsome today,” observed Cassandra, sighing.

The Inquisitor glared at Leliana and chunked his quill on the table.

“I wonder why,” he grumbled and went to the door. “Find me at the tavern.”

Emhyr clanked his tankard with the Iron Bull and drank half a pint in one gulp.

The Qunari examined him with his one good eye but said nothing straight away. But then he caught a maid and asked her:

“D’ya know where’s Grisette tonight?”

The peasant girl sniffed and shrugged:

“Them fancies now have their own quarters, in the south tower. They say it’s nice with Antivan carpets, fancy vases an’ all.”

Emhyr frowned.

“Did they say who brought it?”

The maid shrugged indifferently.

“Why, 'is no secret, that’s Elen’s doin’ all o’er the place, she brought us 'ere these jolly banners an’ that bear head, and those darts game…”

The Inquisitor stirred.

“Do you know where she lives?”

“Dunno, she’s some fancy too…”

Emhyr frowned again.

“What do you mean by ‘fancy?’ Like a courtesan?”

The maid giggled.

“Nay, I dunno, just fancy, y’know, like strange or somethin’. But I would ask those fancies, they must know 'er better.”

The Iron Bull was very curious about the way this conversation was going, and as soon as the maid left, he grinned:

“So, let’s go check on girls?”

The Inquisitor already opened his mouth to answer when Varric came in running.

“New developments, your Worship, we need to return to the war room.”

Days passed into weeks, and soon a whole month was closing to its end, the life in the castle grew more and more animated, and the appearance of the Skyhold castle changed dramatically. Less and less scaffolding could be seen here and there, and the buildings became more and more welcoming.

It was past noon when Emhyr returned to his quarters from a lengthy mission just to witness the last of junk being cleared from his backroom.

Maids replaced workers as they cleaned the premises, and soon everyone left the place bare and clean.

Emhyr dropped to his bed, right as he was in dirty boots and mud-covered armor, and closed his eyes.

He heard someone enter the room, but he just assumed it was one of the maids or workers with some last chore.

But this person started producing strange small scraping sounds, and the Inquisitor opened his eyes.

A woman in a pink dress was standing in the doorway to the backroom and jotting down some notes on a piece of paper. Her quill was producing those small noises.

The Inquisitor sat up sharply, and the woman turned.

“I'm sorry I woke you up,” said Elen, smiling only with her eyes.

He hemmed unhappily.

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

The woman just stood there, tarrying to go on with her business.

She seemed examining him with a tinge of pity or sadness, then she uttered gracefully:

“It takes its toll on you…”

Emhyr just scoffed and shook his head. His eyes were dull.

Elen took a few steps forward.

“Everything is gonna be all right. You'll get through it all, I know.”

He closed his eyes. He would yell that all this diplomatic crap along with rifts, and the madman Corypheus, and all that Herald rubbish just sucked out his life. But he stayed silent, too tired to talk.

The woman sighed and went to take a seat beside him. Took his hand.

And so they stayed together for a long time, until the Inquisitor stirred.

He looked into her eyes and sighed with relief. He kissed the knuckles on her hand that was holding his hand and said:

“Glad you came by.”

She shrugged.

“Always a pleasure.”

He nodded, and she took it as a sign to leave.

She stood up.

“Elen…”

“Yes, Emhyr?”

A bit awkwardly and hurriedly, he asked:

“I’ve seen some caskets in one of backrooms. Are they empty?”

She exhaled and laughed.

“Oh, the caskets? Well, they contain some old wine, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Are you a courtesan?” the question did not sound offensively. More like matter-of-factly.

She did not seem insulted. Just puzzled.

“What?”

Emhyr raised his head to look at her. His face bore an undecipherable expression.

“I wish I could buy your time…”

He stood up and went to her.

“I missed you,” he murmured as he went for her lips and started caressing her body.

She did not object, it was obvious that she enjoyed his caresses as much as he did but in a few minutes, she paused and took a step back.

Emhyr looked at her in delight, all traces of tiredness and bad humor gone. He stroked her golden hair with such unexpected tenderness that Elen closed her eyes to feel him better.

He kissed her eyelids and whispered:

“I’m sorry for being such a barbarian, you deserve better…”

She looked at him and smiled. She put her fingers on the back of his hand. Her face radiated joy, her eyes shone.

Emhyr caressed her cheek.

“Stay with me, Elen. I… I’d want you to be somewhere closer… Like, next door perhaps…”

She giggled.

“Next door? Are you serious?”

“What? Too close?”

She shook her head.

“Can you imagine yourself soundly sleeping under those conditions?”

The Inquisitor laughed, a little embarrassed.

“Well… That's a good point,” then he cast a piercing gaze at her and said it straight: “I’d prefer it if you were in my bed instead.”

The young woman let the phrase slip and shrugged.

“See? No sound sleep at all.”

Sunenhelm was good-looking enough to always get what he wanted, so the beauty’s resistance puzzled him. But he liked her so much that he made the effort to accept it and smiled instead.

“All right. I’m sorry I brought this up. Can I at least offer you a lunch together? At the place of your choice.”

Elen grinned.

“Oh, a lunch would be lovely.”

Val Royeaux’s sunlit terraces with their hanging gardens harbored countless cafeteria and lounge places.

One of the best cafes opened to the vast lagoon riddled with picturesque bright gondolas and imposing large ships. The warm air was filled with seagulls’ cries, smells of the sea and heated blue cotton shades of the café, flapping in the soft breeze.

Elen sat leaning on the parapet and breathed in the salty air. Emhyr sat across the table, sipping his coffee and enjoying the view and the woman in front of him.

“This is marvelous,” she murmured dreamily, exposing her face to the sun.

“I’m glad you like it,” he smiled, genuinely happy.

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the moment.

Then the Inquisitor suggested:

“While we are here, would you want to take a ride in one of these gondolas? I was once told they have nice seaside views on the city.”

Elen turned to him and beamed.

“Wow, I’d be silly to pass such an offer. I’d love it.”

Sunenhelm put the empty cup on the table and stood up.

“Then let’s go.”

He gallantly offered her his bent arm and walked her to the nearest pier.

After having negotiated the itinerary and the price, they boarded the gondola and sat in the plushy cushioned seat side by side, while the sailor pushed the slim boat away from the dock.

The weather was delightful, the views were ranging from simply breathtaking to completely stunning, and the two people grew lost in this elation.

“I… can’t remember any other such day in my life…” whispered Elen, touching the water surface overboard.

The Inquisitor looked at her and sighed.

“Me neither.”

He carefully put his arm onto the back of the seat, but his gesture was relaxed and completely natural.

Elen sat back cozily under his outstretched arm and sighed with such relief that he had to ask:

“Are you all right?”

She nodded and smiled, her eyes closed.

“It’s been a long time since I felt so safe and happy… it feels so good…”

Emhyr grinned and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“I feel happy too. In a long while.”

Leliana the spymaster walked to and fro, briskly pacing in the War Room.

Apart from her dear friend Josephine, there was no one else in there.

“The foolish man ruins everything we are trying to build!” she fumed, stopping once again near the map and viewing it with apprehension.

Josie threw her writing board on the table in exasperation.

“This gondola ride will cost us dear! Half the city saw them in that boat! Then their happy stroll through the square, their careless chitchat at the restaurant… Now one half of the mail I receive consists of outrage that the Inquisitor prances around a peasant girl instead of closing rifts, and the other half… ugh! I don’t even want to repeat! We need to talk to him again!”

Leliana sighed and shook her head.

“I’ve seen him yesterday. There’s no point. What we need is a big distraction. And with all that’s going on around us, with the templars’ strange behavior, the Chantry breathing down our necks, the rifts, the odd disappearance of the Grey Wardens… It will be easy enough. I’m confident that in a week’s time, in ten days at most, Val Royeaux will have other things on their minds. We’ll just have to watch it closely so that no new episodes occur, they’ll peacefully pass on to new gossips.”

The ambassador sighed.

“Andraste bless your words!”

Emhyr scoped the citadel at one glance. Its bustling activity warmed his heart. Skyhold grew in numbers, in strength and in splendor. A fine place, to be sure.

It was so vast that it still held lots of unexplored nooks and crannies and it was obvious that one of them was homing his elusive Elen.

The Inquisitor allowed himself to return to the sweet memory of _that_ peaceful day, of the sun on her face, her soft smiling lips, her gleaming green eyes, her happiness and joy… He realized that this day would stay forever in his memory as fresh and young as her cheeks, and as alive as the sea breeze thick with gulls’ cries and the sun in the salty water.

Upon their return, Elen thanked him for the ride, kissed him tenderly, and bid good night. After that, he hadn’t seen her in two days.

On the third day, he grew resolute to find her hiding place.

Carefully, he talked to people, studied the repairs in the castle, and explored the premises. It took him the whole day but by the nightfall he caught himself looking with mounting surprise at a building in the lower court. His lips slowly formed a smile.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, as he headed for the Great Hall, his mind finally at peace.

Leliana’s forecast proved to be true, and the advisors provided the Inquisitor with so much stuff to do that in the next few weeks he hardly saw his beloved castle at all, his best rest restricted to unsavory road taverns and the Inquisition camps in the woods.

Progressively, their team grew, and little by little they began forming a companionship. Cassandra proved to be as fine friend as she’d been a fierce enemy, Varric’s unwavering loyalty to the Champion of Kirkwall did not stop him from growing on Emhyr, for Sunenhelm had two strongly attractive qualities: steely strength and wholeness of character combined with amazing gentle kindness to people around him. Plus, his good looks, a bright sense of humor, physical might, and unparalleled marksman skills made him a very lovable person. Josephine the ambassador often said that if the Inquisitor could appear at every potential ally’s doorstep with just a smile on his face, he would win over the whole Thedas.

Emhyr and Solas formed a strange quiet friendship based on mutual respect and interest for the mysteries of the World. They could often be seen at the edge of a camp sitting quietly and looking into the night.

Even the distant Vivienne seemed to enjoy the Inquisitor’s company and was more than tolerant to his flirtatious remarks. Such tolerance could only be paralleled to her constant bickering with Dorian, the Tevinter mage, who, truth be told, could not leave any person neutral to him. He was either loved for his eccentricity, sarcastic humor, and flamboyant temperament, or hated for much the same reasons. He could be both annoying and charming at once, like a grown-up child. Bright, talented, and egocentric, he was another highlight in the group, if not a leader due to his solitary nature.

The Iron Bull, a Qunari spy and the beloved leader of a mercenary company, had much more finesse than his grotesque physique would suggest. He managed to win over the Inquisitor and the Seeker, be peers with Varric and Dorian, and, while distinctly subordinate to the Inquisitor, never lost an ounce of authority with his faithful guys. His such finely-tuned balancing act won him even more respect from Emhyr. Both Cole and Sera – two recent acquisitions to the movement – seemed to be delighted with the grey giant, Cole being amazed how gracefully the Qunari accepted the many pains and sufferings of his very eventful past, and Sera was thrilled with his face-value no-nonsense behavior.

At long last, their lengthy trip drew to an end, and they decided to return to Skyhold.

With trepidation, Emhyr stepped once again onto the pavement of the mountain fortress and smelled the familiar smells of frosty peaks, pines growing in the courtyard, horse dung, fresh straw, wet cement, new scaffolding, old rusty hinges of the massive gate chains… Those mingled with smells of early morning cookery: fire, grease and pancakes.

Creaking windvanes colored slightly pinkish by the dawn light, while the courtyard was still drowning in thick blue night shadow.

Emhyr looked around, happy to be home, took a long look at a particular building and smiled to himself.

His companions dragged their belongings from the horses’ backs and, having said their goodbyes, hurried to their quarters. The Inquisitor followed suit, went to his room, undressed, and washed himself, then put on fresh clothes and slipped out of the main building.

Then he did an odd thing, for he went to the refectory kitchens, careful not to wake up elven servants, kindled a fire in a stove, cooked an omelette with toasts, and made some fragrant coffee.

Roosters started their [cock-a-doodle-doo](http://www.multitran.ru/c/m.exe?t=651518_1_2&s1=%EA%F3%EA%E0%F0%E5%EA%E0%F2%FC) at this time, announcing the first rays of the sun.

Emhyr looked out the window to check on the wind-vanes, saw them blazing in the morning light, and cackled with satisfaction.

Having loaded the breakfast into a basket, he walked to the forge, quietly took the stairs to the second floor, and looked around.

Elen woke up to the smell of strong coffee and something no less tasty tickling her nose receptors. She squinted at the sun that was poking its rays straight in her face and finally focused on the objects beside her. She heaved her sleepy torso onto her elbow and met the Inquisitor’s laughing gaze.

“Oh, Maker!” she uttered, while Emhyr was joyfully laughing.

He had been quietly lying near her, having put the breakfast plate and the cup between them, on the edge of the huge heap of straw that she was using as bed on the garret of the warehouse whose main floor was converted into an auxiliary forge for small items like horseshoes.

He had been observing her sleep, patiently waiting for her to wake up.

And it paid up, for her sheer surprise was priceless.

“Oh Maker!” she repeated, trying to gather her wits. “How… what… you’re back! Thank the Maker! I was worried!”

The man grinned.

“I’m glad you are. Here,” he handed her a warm crispy toast and rummaged in his pockets. He produced two almost ripe peaches and a squashy apricot. “It’s already fruit time in the valley…”

The young woman gleamed.

“How wonderful! You’re a gem!”

She kissed him on the cheek, and he took this opportunity to remove a straw from her hair.

“But tell me,” he asked, “Why here, of all places? I’d imagined you having a lush boudoir full of silks and velvet…”

She scoffed and sank her teeth into the peach.

‘I bet everybody in the castle thinks this way: me equals silks and a posh lifestyle. And nobody would think of this place, but it’s warm here from the forge and the hay, for it can be freezing at these altitudes at night, as you surely know. And it’s private. Which makes me very happy.”

Emhyr frowned.

“You seem very concerned about your privacy…”

Elen simply nodded.

“Yes, I am.”

“Is there a particular reason...?”

She sighed.

“A few, actually. But nothing you should worry about.”

The Inquisitor dropped the subject and laughed:

“Then I’ll have to find a hiding place too! For I need a break from my beautiful advisors…”

Elen narrowed her eyes and whispered playfully:

“Just this once, you can hide here.”

But their breakfast proved to be just a short respite from another long string of battles, this time due to a severe Venatori outbreak. The mountain castle turned into a vague distant memory by the time the Inquisitor’s team managed to buy themselves a respite.

Iron Bull tapped lovingly on the huge dragon head and sighed dreamily:

“What a battle it was! And now such a boon! Look at this: scales, leather, bladder, and blood, claws, bones, and this magnificent head!... A shame I can think of no use for the meat!”

Vivienne looked at him sideways and uttered:

“Why, there is also use for his heart and liver…”

The huge Qunari beamed.

“Why thank you, ma’am! Nearly forgot those…”

Sera squinted at him and drawled:

“I could swear I heard some jacks saying that their mabaris become more ferocious after eating wyvern meat, and a dragon is even bigger than a wyvern, no? I could arrange selling that stuff.”

Iron Bull grew even more ecstatic.

“You’d make my day, dear!”

But Dorian, as could be expected, was less than enthusiastic.

“Pffff, so we have to stay here for yet another week just to get even more dirty with the gore of a dead reptile? And all this only to satisfy your petty vanity?”

With growing alarm, Emhyr sensed another scandal brewing and decidedly intervened.

“Tell you what. We’ll let Iron Bull take the head, and we’ll send soldiers from the nearest outpost to process the dragon’s body. Of course, if anyone wants to take any parts now, we’ll wait for you.”

The Qunari grumbled, unhappy to part with his trophy.

“All right… Let’s send Sera to the nearest outpost by horse and wait here, lest any local beasties try to nibble on our dragon.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, Sera giggled, Varric slapped his palm onto his face, covering his eyes, but Emhyr just grinned and nodded.

“Agreed. This will not take much time.”

Mountains met them with crisp chilly air, and Skyhold greeted them with cheers and loud clangs of arms on shields.

Crowds of people practically carried the team into the Great Hall, now almost unrecognizable with imposing statues, festive banners, and other decorations.

Triumphantly, the Iron Bull raised the dragon’s head to the excited roar of the crowd, carried it right onto the podium, and put it down near the throne.

People studied the massive head in awe, and the hubbub of comments continued on for quite some time.

Then Josephine ushered Sunenhelm to the throne and, after a very much edited recount of the team’s adventures, ordered to bring in the prisoners.

“Mistress Poulin of Orlais, accused of selling villagers of Sahrnia to red templars,” announced Josephine.

The Inquisitor winced.

“Josie, this is ridiculous! The woman was under a death threat and she used the profits to sustain the remaining people. Who would do better under the circumstances? You, me, Leliana or Cassandra?”

He cleared his throat and said aloud:

“I order to release this woman. She would be more useful to Sahrnia in helping to rebuild it rather than feeding crows here in Skyhold. Next.”

“Magister Gereon Alexius, judged for his crimes of apostasy, attempted enslavement, attempted assassination of his Worship Emhyr Sunenhelm, our Inquisitor.”

Emhyr sighed heavily, shut his eyes tightly and murmured:

“What have I done to deserve this!”

He waived his mages to come closer.

“I ask all of you. Could you guarantee that you’d be able to control this man if we keep him alive?”

All three of them shook their heads sadly.

Vivienne looked sorry, Solas – ashamed, and even Dorian frowned and bit his lip.

Finally, he said:

“There is no guarantee… After all, he was my teacher, and I’m yet to surpass him…”

Emhyr sighed once more, ever more heavily.

“I would have spared him – for his son, but after I’ve seen the future he prepared for us all and for the world… Damn it, the Maker knows I never wanted such responsibility…”

Then he cleared his throat. His deep voice clearly resounded in the Hall:

“With the deepest regret I have to announce this man’s death sentence, let’s pray Andraste guides him to the Maker,” he unsheathed his glaive and stepped towards the man. Looked him in the eyes and said: “I am deeply sorry for taking your life.”

Emhyr dropped his quiver and the empty scabbard onto the sofa with irritation and put his faithful bow into its socket. Then he washed the blade that served to kill the mage and wiped it dry. Carefully put it back into the scabbard and dropped it on the sofa.

Then he rubbed his face tiredly and moaned aloud:

“Maker, I need another job!”

But then he heard a soft sigh, and his irritation evaporated.

Elen, in her fetching pink dress stood on the balcony and watched him with a melancholic smile.

“Poor man. You did right. Even if it was hard. And you did it gracefully, without hatred. You just released him into the Fade. Nobody else could do it like you did. You are the best there is for this role. However hard it may be… This dirty work requires a pure heart, like yours. Who would be able to do it instead of you? Surely not the Chantry. Those pious poops of Andraste would rather chant themselves into the Fade than stop their quarrels over the holy throne. Mages and templars are no better – they are ready to burn themselves to ashes along with the whole world, if only it be together with their hated adversaries. Surely not the simple folk – they always hope that the end of the world will be stalled by someone else, just not them. Who else? If not you…”

Emhyr exhaled with great relief, his heart much more at ease now.

He looked at the woman like a burnt man who found a cool shade. He was silent for a minute, then he covered the distance between them and grabbed her into his arms.

“Then I need a more thorough persuasion than this nice speech,” he said and covered her lips with his mouth.

The woman in his arms trembled with a wave of shiver that passed from head to toe.

“When you are away from the castle, everyone here prays daily for your safety,” she whispered, an unexpected emotion in her voice.

“If it were only your prayers, it’d be enough for me,” murmured Emhyr, roughly caressing her, his fever mounting like a volcano – fast and unstoppable.

She moaned, unbuttoning his stiff and dirty leather jacket, and stroking his chest.

“Finally, I can take off this damned thing,” he muttered, as she helped him get out of his armor. “Ouf, I need a bath!”

She giggled.

“It’s a good smell.”

So, his thin undershirt followed the jacket, and Emhyr took the woman in his arms and carried her to the bed.

There he started undoing her small brass buttons, gradually relieving her of her tight dress, then caressed her breasts through her gossamer chemise and kissed her again.

Fondling each other, they both felt a huge relief. Sure, it was not the way they’d want it ideally for they liked each other more than they cared to admit, but the strain of the last weeks just could not be contained any longer, and so they had sex just to take that tension off.

Emhyr pulled up her skirt, stroked her wet pussy a few times, and set to undo his fly-piece. Its buttons flew about and scattered on the floor, and the man just entered the woman with a sigh. She grappled at his shoulders, they fervently kissed again, and he started fucking her so hard that their grunts could be heard all the way down the hall. She bit him, scratched him, they tumbled in bed like two coiling snakes, but he gripped her tight and continued fucking and kissing her to the utmost ecstasy of both parties.

“Harder!” groaned the woman, feeling the approaching climax.

And Emhyr doubled his efforts.

“Oh yes! Do it! Yes! Fuck me! Ohoh Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!”

He groaned, joining her spasms and completely losing himself in her, not letting her go until the very last convulsion.

They were both disheveled, with tousled hair, dripping wet with sweat, catching their breath. His skin looked like after a fight with a snow cat, her chemise was ripped almost in half.

They looked at each other.

“This was good,” smiled Elen. “I needed that.”

Emhyr extracted himself from her and lay beside her, exhausted but happy.

“Thank you. You can’t imagine how _I_ needed it.”

They caressed each other with gratitude.

“I promise I will ask you out on a proper date,” he kissed her knuckle.

She giggled.

“Wouldn’t it be boring after this encounter?”

The Inquisitor laughed.

“I’ll try to come up with something interesting.”

“Can’t wait.”

“You sound skeptical.”

“Do I? Maybe. A bit. I can hardly imagine something better than that lunch in Val Royeaux…”

He kissed her hand again.

“It will be, I promise…”

She rose and mounted him.

“Nice to make your acquaintance, your lordship,” she giggled as she was about to get up from the bed.

But Emhyr restrained her hips, keeping her on top of him, and looked her in the eyes.

“I still feel like I mistreated you. I'm sorry if I did. I like you.”

She leaned and kissed him.

“Me too.”

Emhyr kissed her back and murmured, grinning:

“What, you like yourself too?”

“Oh, you cheeky…!” she laughed but made another attempt to go. He did not let her again.

“I order you to stay,” he said, half-smiling, with a steel glint in his eye.

Elen liked his commanding tone, understood that this was a game, and answered, unimpressed:

“Whatever you say, your lordship, but your castle won’t repair by itself.”

Emhyr tugged at her ragged dress.

“Get undressed, woman, and return to bed!” in his eyes, she read that he wanted her again.

Of course, she could get away from him, if only she wanted to. But she didn’t. This man excited her, his power, both physical and charismatic made him extremely attractive. His good looks did not deter her either, and his gentle affection for her warmed her infinitely.

Never breaking their eye contact, Elen slipped off the bed and started slowly undoing the rest of the dress, then paused and ordered him back:

“What are you waiting for? Take off your pants and what’s not, I want to see you naked too!”

Swiftly, he removed the rest of his clothing and sat in bed, eyeing the woman expectantly.

“I need your help,” she said, and he couldn’t say if it was coquetry or if she was genuinely stuck in her tight sleeves.

He helped her out of the dress and paused, watching her beautiful nudity.

Her pink nipples had a nice silky sheen to them, her navel was small and dark, her soft golden pubic hair coiled gently.

“Come here,” he whispered, stroking her hip.

This time, they took their time to enjoy their bodies. They caressed each other as if in a slow dance, and when Emhyr entered her, he did not rush it either, and her musical tender sighs made him move very gently.

A good deal of time passed in this manner, for they did it again and again, until Emhyr just couldn’t get his cock to stand anymore. So, he just caressed her and watched her looking into his eyes.

“You are amazing,” he said in a raucous voice. “I felt you giving yourself to me so completely, and yet I still have the feeling that you are a mystery to me. Your character, the way you think… I'd like to know you better.”

She laughed wearily.

“Oh, Emhyr, you can never know people in full even if you read their minds.”

Then she turned to her stomach and hugged a pillow.

“I know that I need to get up, but I can’t…”

The Inquisitor sighed and rose to his feet.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a tusket. I’ll go find something in the kitchen… You stay here.”

Elen chuckled.

“Have I become your sex slave?”

Emhyr laughed and kissed her on the shoulder.

“I’ve yet to find out who is who’s slave.”

“Hmmm. Lovely.”

He bent to kiss her when they heard a rapid knock on the door.

The Inquisitor sighed.

“Who’s there?”

The door opened, and Leliana rushed in with Josephine at her heels.

A silent scene followed. Then Emhyr sighed and said:

“I asked ‘who’s there,’ I didn’t say ‘come in.’ Oh well. Elen, let me formally introduce you my advisors, Leliana and Josephine. They are good at what they do. Generally.”

The diplomat was paler than paper and averted her eyes from Elen.

Leliana was quicker to recuperate her wits and bowed.

“I apologize for rushing in, your Worship, but this is urgent.”

The Inquisitor nodded sadly.

“Of course it is.”

Never minding his own nudity, he picked up the sheet from the floor and gave it to Elen to cover her. Then he went to the wardrobe to find another pair of breeches and put them on.

“So. What’s the matter?” he asked evenly, turning to his advisors.

Leliana cast a doubtful glance at the woman in the Inquisitor’s bed.

“I would not…” she started, and Emhyr nodded.

“Let’s go to the War Room…” he turned to Elen. “Don’t go far.”

Elen curved one brow and slyly smiled.

“Oh, I'll be around, dear…”

She got up, picked up the heap of her clothes, and naked as she was strolled out of the room, having blown the man one last kiss.

Cassandra was in a state to destroy another dummy when she heard a familiar chuckle.

“Varric!” she breathed. “What are _you_ doing here? Aren’t you supposed to scavenge for news in the Hall in the close proximity of your new idol?”

“Why so sour, my dear Seeker?” laughed the dwarf good-naturedly. “Anything to do with the fresh gossip?”

“What gossip?!” the woman was now beside herself, pale as a sheet, and biting her lip. “ _Not with_ _Sunenhelm, not with him!_ ” she thought, painfully aware that her instinct told her the opposite.

Varric cracked.

“Look at you! The fearsome Seeker has a crush on the glorious Inquisitor she helped bringing to power! What an epic tale!”

Cassandra nearly roared.

“I… don’t you dare...! If you write one word of it, I’ll find you even in the Deep Roads...! Now out with it, what’s that stinky gossip you talk about?”

The dwarf chuckled, unperturbed.

“Oh, now I doubt you’ll want to hear it, dear Seeker…”

“Out with it!” barked the warrior, her eyes gleaming menacingly.

Varric laughed but did not tarry long.

“Oh, it’s just that His Worship banged this cute blonde purveyor of ours ten minutes ago, and then your two friends Leliana and Josephine were so blunt as to enter the room right in the middle of the action. Priceless!”

And he cracked when he saw the Seeker’s face turn purple.

Cassandra tried hard to get a grip on her feelings and said in a raucous voice:

“Varric, stop spreading this. It might backfire very badly! Anyway, why have you come here? Surely not just to jeer over me?”

The dwarf nodded, sobering.

“Our misfortunate advisors have brought news from the Brecilian Forest. So, you are needed at the council…” he couldn’t help himself and cracked again: “But your face…! Oh Maker...!”

Elen got dressed in the hallway, smiling at the menacing roar of the Inquisitor audible in the whole tower, then critically eyed the unfinished repairs. They looked bad. Crows nested in the scaffolding, and a chilly draft went up from the breach in the wall below. She shook her head, sighed, and opened the door to the Great Hall. One of the guards posted near the Inquisitor’s wing cast a suspicious glance at her. She smiled and headed across the hall.

The thought on ways to restore the hallway was nagging at her now, so she went to the library in hopes of finding some ideas.

Solas nodded to her, and she paused before climbing the stairs.

She liked this elf for no particular reason. She was just sympathetic to him.

“Aren’t you annoyed by all the people going to the library through your room?” she asked him.

Solas shook his head.

“This isn’t the only entrance, and there are hardly many visitors to the place. The library isn’t the most popular joint here. So no, I’m not annoyed. Besides, those who do come to the library through my quarters are generally interesting people. Like you are, my lady.”

Elen smiled.

“What do I hear? A compliment? From you, Solas?”

The tips of the elf’s ears turned slightly pink.

“Why, I only stated a fact.”

“Do you need anything? Any furniture, clothes, any other items? We are practically done with a more comfortable room for you, but as they say, there is nothing more permanent than temporary things…”

But the elf shook his head.

“I’m very grateful to you, Elen, there is already everything I need here.”

She cast a glance at the scaffolding.

“When has the worker last been here? This thing has been standing tucked to the wall for three weeks in a row!”

Solas shrugged.

“He was… let me think… the other day… Did this whole section of the mural…”

The woman sighed.

“Lazybones! Wait till I find him!... All right, Solas, it was nice to meet you, but I should go.”

The elf bowed.

“Always a pleasure.”

She smiled, nodded to him, and went to the staircase.

In the library, it was quiet and dusty, but – gratefully – dry.

Elen strolled down the needed section, having missed a silent man with a dandy moustache.

But when she started rummaging through scrolls, she heard his gently mocking voice:

“Mmmm, the love scent of a woman in heat. A rarest rarity in these walls. So exhilarating.”

Elen gasped.

The Tevinter mage came from behind a bookshelf, hugged the woman and started kissing her.

“Whom did you fuck here, my precious pear?”

“Dorian Pavus! Oh my! Here of all places!” she was so dumbstruck she did not decline his advances staring at him as if she saw a ghost.

“Mmmm, so supple as ever! My sweetest pear,” he continued kissing her, no trace of surprise in his voice.

She sighed.

“I’d hoped you’d grow up, Dorian. Looks like you’re the same horny teenager.”

“And you are the same sweetest Eli. You know I cannot stand it when you do it with someone else! I just _have to_ appropriate you again!”

“Don’t be silly, Dorian, we are not fifteen!”

“Good things never change,” he started to lift her skirt, caressing her leg, then knee, then thigh. “Oh I’ve missed you, bad girl!”

She smiled against her best judgement, for the Tevinterian knew all the trigger spots on her body better than anyone.

“Do you know that you inadvertently ruptured many of my relationships?” he continued, tickling a sweet spot on her hip.

“How so?”

He laughed softly, delighted, his one hand still exploring her hip, the other – unbuttoning the collar of her dress.

“When you call out ‘El’ instead of ‘Marta,’ or ‘Terry’ or ‘Ipsy’ in the heat of the moment, they generally do not appreciate it.

Elen giggled and rolled her eyes.

“Oh my, you did it?! Maker's breath!”

Her breasts were now free from the clothing, and Dorian saw the ripped chemise.

“My oh my, such passion!” he commented and started licking her nipples in his own particular way that never failed to turn Elen on. She moaned and clutched at the shelf.

The Tevinterian’s other hand finally found its way to her crotch.

“You are still full of juices you produced for another man!” exhaled Dorian. The thought of someone else mounting his school sweetheart apparently excited him very much. “I will bang you until you plead me to stop! I will erase any memory of someone else, and you’ll say I’m still the best!”

Elen sighed as she remembered how often Dorian watched her from a hiding place making love with someone and then greedily had sex with her just to make sure she was still his. But to his credit, he did it like a god – with an obsession on her. Luckily, he never objected to her other romances, he adored watching her come, whoever was the cause of her orgasm.

“Oh, I know what these Fereldan farmers never do!” he said as he dropped to his knees and parted her legs. “Oh yes my dear girl, your brother missed you…”

He started eating her pussy, the smell and taste of another man making him a bit forceful.

The woman started panting, but her lover stood up again, his blazing eyes fixed on her face, his moustache, lips and chin wet.

He watched her while undoing his fly-piece, then took her hand and handed her his apparatus.

“Don’t tell me he is better than mine,” he whispered with a feverish glint in his hazel eyes.

Elen knew this intense look. It promised one hell of a ride.

She squeezed his cock appraisingly and drawled mockingly:

“I don’t know… His seemed bigger… And it was curved downwards, like a huge mabari’s…”

Dorian bit his lip though. A droplet of blood appeared on it. He grabbed the woman.

Elen pressed her mouth to his lips, licked the bitten lip, and tasted at once his salty blood, Emhyr’s sperm and her own juice.

The Tevinterian moaned, pushed her buttocks onto his dick, and thrust it with so much gusto, that the shelf behind them trembled and rained scrolls.

“Oh baby,” she moaned, gripping him by the hair. She could never resist him.

“You are mine,” he muttered, banging her frenetically.

Scrolls kept falling.

She tried to fake her orgasm because, truth be told, she had enough of it for one day, but the Tevinterian was implacable.

“Stop faking it, darling, you are not with some stable boy,” he said and made his king move that turned her instantly on. “Come on, my sweet pear, show me how you do it…”

And she exploded with moans and sighs to his utmost satisfaction.

“Please enough!” she whispered feeling her consciousness slip away from her.

He caught her up and covered with kisses.

“My sweet El, you’re such a bitch!” he murmured gently. “I would hate you for cheating on me if I didn’t love you so much. I can never have enough of you.”

“I do not belong to you,” frowned Elen and tried to disengage from him. But Dorian did not let her. His strong arms enveloped her and held fast, never letting her move.

“Pavus, really?!” her direct stare could pierce a wall, but Dorian just laughed.

“I love it when you’re furious!”

“Let me go!”

“No.”

She growled angrily and slapped him across the face.

“Oh yes, this is good. I missed that,” laughed the mage still holding her and laughing.

“I’ll scream,” Elen was now beside herself.

“Do that dear.”

“Help!” but the sound of the cry strangely rebounded about the alcove, hitting her back. “What have you done, abomination?!”

The Tevinterian smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“I call this spell ‘Do not disturb,’ for it doesn’t let any sounds or images in or out. I sealed this alcove upon entering.”

Elen moaned.

“You monster.”

“Au contraire, my dear, I am simply concerned for your reputation. However frail it may be. Plus, the Inquisition spies are nesting just above us, on the top floor of the tower. Do you want that nosy Leliana know about our small family disagreements?”

Elen sighed.

“What do you want me to do, Pavus?”

“Judging by your use of my family name, you are very upset. Don’t be, my dear. I just wanted to be with you a bit more, before you run off again to your unsavory farmer lovers.”

“I would do it with a goat if it gets you upset!”

The mage laughed with a tinge of bitterness in his tone and shook his head.

“Nothing you do can upset me.”

The woman sighed and sat on a nearby bench.

“OK. You have my attention. Now what?”

Dorian sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. He caressed her cheek and looked her in the eyes.

“Now we just sit here,” he whispered, as he studied her with his eyes and fingers. “You have one small silver hair here…”

“Your doing, undoubtedly.”

“It does not hurt your beauty in the least.”

She did not reply.

“Is it true that the Inquisitor kissed your hands right in the main hall, in front of all the people?”

She was still silent, pouting.

“I was very surprised when I heard the news that the Herald of Andraste kissed a girl named Elen in the hall. What Elen? I asked myself. Could that be my sweet El? I wanted to know. But you managed to stay invisible this whole time, and now I find that you go around fucked as a slut, and I can only ask: was it the Herald who banged my girl?”

Elen shrugged her shoulders and said coolly:

“Who needs a Herald when there is a Qunari around?”

Dorian scoffed in delight and yelped like a coyote.

“Finally, you uncovered a new dimension of wickedness! That’s my girl!”

Elen started growing more and more restless.

“Look, Dorian, can I go now? I have lots to do.”

The Tevinterian sighed.

“You do understand that I’ll find you here?”

“You’ve failed so far.”

And finally, he snapped.

“Why are you so cruel and hostile to me, El?! Why do you prefer a dirty mercenary with cow horns to me? Whatever have I done to you?”

She looked him in the eye.

“Dorian, we’ve been through this already a hundred times! I loved you, we have a shared past that cannot be changed. But your infatuation with me scares me. A lot! I’m not your sister. Your sis died in her infancy, and I’m NOT her. We aren’t even related. And I want a life of my own.”

“But I love you!”

“And I love you too. Occasionally. Once a month. Sex with you has always been… very good. But I cannot live in a golden cage that is your obsession.”

His eyes grew so sad that Elen almost made a move to hug him. But she knew that this emotional blackmail would never stop, so she steeled herself and just sat there motionless until he shrugged off his sadness and made a gesture in the direction of the entrance to the alcove.

“You may go,” he said plainly and averted his eyes.

Elen cursed under her breath for she was on the verge of staying with the man. All in all, he was awesome. Always been.

She stood up, then kissed him on the cheek and resolutely strolled out of the alcove.

The library was empty, the only sounds came from mail crows above, and Elen suddenly remembered about Leliana. She slightly shivered, adjusted her dress, and almost ran downstairs.

Solas looked at her quizzically.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said neutrally.

Elen sighed.

“The sisters make some hot herbal tea in the inner garden. Care to join me?”

The elf nodded.

“With pleasure.”

The Brecilian Forest greeted them with its own sweet mixture of fragrant smells and tiny little sounds of birds, animals, and rustling leaves.

“I can’t remember this place being so lively,” commented Solas, looking around.

“Are you sure the artifact is here?” asked Emhyr. Being no mage, he could never tell with this lot.

“Are you sure you are Sunenhelm?” mocked him Dorian, who seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

Vivienne never participated in their bickering, considering it below herself. But this time, she commented:

“Isn’t this an overkill, my dear, to bring not one, not two, but _three_ mages just to study an ancient elven artifact?”

Solas answered for Emhyr:

“Actually, it was my idea. Corypheus is using some similar device, and as our areas of expertise overlap only so much, it would be a good thing to study the sphere from all possible angles.”

Vivienne reflected on this and nodded.

“Fair enough.”

And they went deeper into the woods, carefully examining their surroundings.

Soon, a ruined ancient temple overgrown with vine and other creepers came into view, and the band cautiously approached it from the east gate.

Chipping murals could still be seen at places, their images practically indiscernible from age and weather.

The elf studied them for some time, then commented with a small sigh:

“I wonder if our designer could restore these frescos… I bet they were magnificent once…”

“Are you talking about Elen?” asked Emhyr, perking up a bit. “Do you know her?”

Solas nodded.

“A charming young woman. She conducts restorations at my place in the Skyhold. We chat sometimes.”

The Inquisitor got curious.

“So you must know her better than I do. People say she is very good at what she does…”

Dorian grew tense but stayed silent, listening to each word of their conversation.

The elf shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, I’ve known her for a couple of months now, she’s always been cheerful and cordial. Yesterday though she seemed upset somehow…”

Emhyr grew apprehensive and frowned.

“How so? Did she say why?”

“No. We just had a tea in the garden, a little chat – she’s always been very curious about my Fade experiences – and that frown seemed to pass…”

The Inquisitor bit his lip. He made sure that Vivienne was out of earshot and asked:

“So… Solas, maybe you would happen to know what she likes? The spring festivities are near, and I’d like to make presents to all women working with us. And I would certainly wish no one of them to be upset for any reason…”

The elf shrugged again.

“Beats me. She’s been always so self-confident and content that I have actually no clue as to what makes her happy. She seems to like the garden though…”

They walked into an underground chamber, well-preserved and majestic in its own ancient way.

The sphere lay peacefully on a marble pedestal, a thick layer of dust covering it.

“Hello Dolly,” commented Dorian excessively jovially, and his voice carried loudly under the vaults of the chamber.

The group approached the pedestal cautiously. The Inquisitor’s mark began vibrating.

“You’d better stand farther to the door,” suggested Vivienne, eyeing him anxiously.

Emhyr nodded and stood by the entrance. He could see and hear both his fellows inside, and monitor everything on the outside.

The mages began a series of tests and it gave them time for some idle talk.

“I wish someone took a look at the dump where I’m living,” murmured Dorian, never taking his eyes off the sphere. “Do you fancy that designer of yours, Solas?”

The elf shook his head.

“I like her…”

“That’s where it all starts!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, magister! Vivienne, you’ve seen Elen, what’s your take?”

Vivienne moved her head languorously.

“Oh, Elen is a nice girl, and she puts a lot of effort into the works but…”

“But what?” intervened Dorian rather sharply.

“She is… well, in my opinion, she is rather… plain… and she lacks experience in the matter…”

The elf said peacefully:

“She will gain the experience. The most important thing is that she’s willing to do it. And she’s not even paid for this, I saw her a couple of times in our refectory along with her workers.”

Vivienne raised a brow in surprise.

“Is that possible? In this case we cannot even criticize her work results. Too bad.”

Emhyr decided to add his voice to the chatter.

“Why, she’s paid well enough last I checked. Maybe she just likes porridge?”

Vivienne pouted her full lips.

“In this case, a peasant’s diet reflects badly on her design ideas.”

Dorian eyed the woman with an uncertain expression.

“Ruthless but fair,” he commented smugly. “I like it in women. Are you with someone, milady?”

Vivienne scoffed.

“Why do you ask? That is really none of your business.”

But Dorian was unimpressed by her cold tone. Instead, he laughed.

“I was thinking of moving out of my place. If in my new quarters I encounter a beautiful dark-skinned bed-warmer, I’ll be delighted.”

“You wish.”

“Just you wait.”

“Guys, it’s moving!” Solas took a step back from the sphere that started vibrating and turning as if in an effort to free itself from the caked dirt.

Finally, it became free and started rolling and emitting a blue-greenish light along its decorative lines.

The walls of the chamber got covered in ancient runes, then in complicated schematics, then in huge signs… All people were fascinated by the images, but Emhyr, who stood far enough to see everything without turning his head, suddenly said:

“Guys, is it a normal glow?” for the sphere started emitting a heated radiance and smoke.

Dorian looked at it and pushed Vivienne back from the sphere. He only managed to utter: “Oh shit! Run!” when the whole thing just blew in his back.

Everything happened in a matter of a second, and people’s eyes could see the blow but their bodies had no time to react to it.

The Inquisitor made one thing left to do from the place where he was standing: he sent a counter-blow toward the shattering sphere praying to the Maker that it would miss the running mages and reach the shockwave in time to stop it from ruining their only exit.

It worked, although it flipped the running people, but at least they were left unharmed, and the ceiling over their heads did not crumble. However, the whole backward section of the chamber collapsed, burying the shards of the sphere under tons of earth and bricks.

Emhyr grabbed Vivienne by the arm and literally threw her out of the room, then ran to the men and helped Solas lift the semi-conscious Dorian.

They dragged him into the courtyard of the temple and put him on the warm sunlit pavement.

The mage’s breath was shallow, but before passing out he gripped Emhyr’s hand and whispered:

“Peonies… she likes peonies…”

When Dorian opened his eyes, the first face he saw was Vivienne’s. She smiled.

“There you are. Good. I will call our friends – they’ve been worried about you.”

Dorian circled the room with his gaze and asked:

“Where am I?”

Vivienne was already near the door but she turned and chuckled:

“Since you saved me, and since you did not like your room, I thought I’d thank you by letting you recover in my quarters.”

Soon she returned with Emhyr, Solas, and a few others.

All were cheerful and in hurry to fill the gaps in the events since Dorian’s incident.

After the initial bustle subsided and people used this opportunity to chat among each other, Emhyr leaned over Dorian’s bed and quietly asked him:

“Before passing out, you said something about peonies. What was that?”

Dorian sighed and pretended to look at chattering people.

“I was talking about my little sis…”

Emhyr’s clear piercing gaze told him this was not the end of it. The Inquisitor did not persist respecting the mage’s condition, but he went straight out of the room and headed to the garden.

There, he caught a sister by the arm and asked briskly:

“Do we have peonies here?”

The girl nodded and showed him:

“Over there…”

Emhyr approached the bush. It barely started blooming, but he found a few rosy flower heads and plucked them off.

Then he caught a man who looked like a mason and asked him:

“Where does lady Elen work today?”

The man sized him up and indicated the northern tower.

“She must be there. Must been since dawn, your Worship.”

Emhyr nodded and almost ran to the building.

It took him some time to find the workers, but at last he saw the foreman, a burly bear of a man, arguing with the chief mason, a dwarf named Gatsi. The pair looked funny: the huge man and a dwarf, both burly and hairy, like two odd twins. “Gandi,” remembered Emhyr. Gandi and Gatsi, what a duo…

“Where’s the designer?” he asked the Gandi without ado.

The foreman bowed to him.

“Your Worship. Lady Elen just hurried to the west gate, seems a friend of hers got hurt…”

“Thank you, Gandi. What route did she take?”

“Through the main hall, your Worship.”

Emhyr nodded and hurried by the same route.

He caught up with her near the first fireplace where Varric was busy polishing his Bianca.

She did not seem to be in a hurry. She strolled down the hall pensively playing with the tip of her belt.

“Elen, there you are!”

“Oh Emhyr!” her face lit up with genuine joy at his sight, and the Inquisitor wavered momentarily, unsure of whether he was doing the right thing.

But the flowers were already in his hand, and he offered them to her almost mechanically.

Her face displayed a mixture of feelings, then she asked, never touching the flowers:

“Was it Dorian who told you I liked peonies? For if he did, I’ll kill the little weasel! I was so happy before I learned that he’d come here!” she sighed. “Seems we just both chose the Skyhold as a hideaway…”

Emhyr watched her getting angry and waved in the direction of the gallery leading to the western gate.

“Care to enlighten me as we go?”

Elen sighed again and looked doubtfully at the gallery.

“If the son of a bitch talks then I suppose he is out of the imminent danger of dying. Let’s go to the refectory, I haven’t eaten the whole day.”

The Inquisitor shrugged his shoulders indifferently and followed her to the dining hall.

Once there, she took flowers from his hand, put them in a mug with water and put that on the table. Then they went to the cook, and all people in the room started bowing to the Inquisitor and making place for them.

She took a bowl with porridge and returned to the table.

“Well, let us begin then,” she took a silver spoon out of her pouch and dug it into her meal. “So, I guess I start talking, and if you have any questions feel free to ask. In short, we grew up together with Dorian. He’s been always a sweet boy, but then he developed… a sort of obsession with me. When we were young and he was calling me his sister I did not mind, but then it became somewhat sick. So, I moved out from our home in Qarinus and went wandering around Thedas until that Breach in the sky started messing things up. That’s about it.”

Emhyr shrugged his shoulders.

“The way you tell it sounds harmless enough. So why’s the anger?”

Elen hesitated slightly before answering:

“The day before yesterday I bumped into him and… saw that he hadn’t changed. And it scared me, I guess…”

The Inquisitor raised a brow.

“So, you weren’t upset with me?”

Elen’s features briskly lost their worried crease.

“Oh no, Maker, no! Of course not!”

“So we are good?”

“Yes.”

Emhyr looked at her for a long time. The memory of their lovemaking along with her gorgeous looks stirred him. He bit his lip, as his desire to have sex with her and play the gentleman were equally strong.

“There’ll be a new minstrel tonight at the tavern,” he finally said. “Care to join?”

Elen grinned.

“Why not.”

He was watching her listen to the minstrel and resisting the urge to caress her, to bury his face in her hair, to smell it, to kiss her sweet mouth... This instant, he hated his high-visibility status most of all, for it created implications to his every glance and gesture, not to mention affections. He wondered if the gossip already started and cast a look at Leliana and Josephine but he couldn’t tell by their stony faces.

It seemed that Josie took the naked scene rather painfully for she made her best not to look at him, averted her eyes, and had been excessively polite the entire day.

Emhyr sighed. This whole “Herald of Andraste” nonsense grew worse by the hour.

In a sudden feat of anger, he got up and left the tavern. The night was still young, and he went to find Cole. As usual, when he started thinking about the spirit, the latter quickly showed up.

“She likes you, but she likes her freedom best. She is sincere with you, you can rest with her.”

Emhyr sighed.

“Briefly and to the point. Thanks, Cole. You help.”

“I’m happy to help.”

“And what about Dorian?”

“Loves her madly. Madman. Loves her.”

“And she?”

“Loves him too.”

Emhyr hurriedly put tips of his fingers over his lips as if to seal them. He tried to empty his head of thoughts and thus prevent any reaction from unfolding.

But Cole continued:

“She loves many. Solas, me, Varric, the Qunari, Cassandra, Josephine…”

“Wait, she loves many but only _likes_ me?”

“Just being careful. Doesn’t want to suffer.”

Emhyr sighed.

“How could I win her over?”

“By loving her.”

“But Dorian already loves her!”

“You are different, you love differently. She needs warmth, kindness, respect.”

“But I… it’s too soon. I’m not ready, I’m not sure…”

“That’s up to you.”

Emhyr thought it over.

“Thanks, Cole. You've been most helpful.”

“Happy to help.”

When the Inquisitor returned to the tavern, he saw people dancing, Elen among them, giggling with the Iron Bull. So, he joined the merrymaking, and was very gallant around the woman, having put away any lewd thoughts associated with her.

Evening gatherings at the tavern became everyone’s favorite pastime, and if one wanted to find somebody, he went straight to the tavern with an almost foolproof certainty to find this someone there.

Dorian looked around and saw his girl gripping at the Bull’s horns and squealing in delight. The Qunari seemed positively charmed by her spontaneity, and his riffraff company were as jovial as can be. Even the Herald of Andraste and his acolytes joined in the friendly scuffle, with Krem leading them to take something away from his boss.

The mage sighed and joined the mayhem.

Having endured a half-hour of general drinking and pranks, the Tevinterian succeeded in luring Elen away from the company.

“So, my sweetie, I see you are still fond of crossing race borders?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Every time I see you here, you are with that Qun soldier… Doesn’t matter. I wanted to ask you to have a look at my quarters. Professionally, nothing else. The place is a dump and I don’t want to live in a pigsty.”

Elen sighed.

“We are stretched thin as it is. Why don’t you just move into some better place? And what about Vivienne?”

Dorian swirled his moustache and answered self-contentedly:

“Too easy a target. If you stay long enough tonight, you’ll see this black cat coming to the tavern looking for me.”

“Riiiight…”

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“Not too much.”

Dorian’s eyes twinkled.

“Then let’s strike a deal: if you see me humping her tonight, you, my sweetie, will give me what I want.”

Elen sighed and squinted:

“And what is it that you want, abomination?”

“A night. In your bed,” he traced his finger between her breasts, and Elen felt hot in her cheeks.

She almost wanted this wickedness.

“All right. You’ve got a deal. But tonight, not tomorrow or any other day. How can I check your lies?”

Dorian grinned widely.

“Piece of cake. When she comes looking for me, follow us back to her quarters, I’ll leave you a crack in the door.”

Elen was worried that he was too confident in his victory, and she said:

“If a draft closes the door and I don’t see anything – no deal. If I see you performing some trick on the woman – potion or spell – no deal. If you try some suggestion on me, believe me, you’d wish you didn’t. The point is: if I do not witness the real banging, there’ll be nothing afterwards.”

Dorian smiled winningly.

“Just tell me where your bed is, for I sleep with you tomorrow. I would sleep with you tonight, but I know you don’t appreciate the smell of another woman.”

Elen wondered what she was getting herself into and answered after a pause:

“Not in my bed. Just a night with me. We can go to the garret over the warehouse. It’s already repaired, dry and warm.”

“Are you trying to rob me of my triumph?”

“It’s either this or no deal at all.”

“All right. I’ll find another way to learn where you sleep.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Oh, come on, my sweet pear! Do you remember how I used to take my teddy bear and climb into your bed for sweeter dreams? I still miss that coziness…”

Elen sighed.

“Grow up already!”

The man giggled, swirled his moustache, and whispered:

“Just you wait…”

And he went to find a card game.

The woman returned to the merry company and in passing kissed Krem on the cheek. The man blushed and nearly dropped his bottle.

The Iron Bull’s sole eye saw it, and the Qunari laughed:

“Be careful with that one, girly, he might be too hot for yeh!”

Elen shrugged it away and sat in the Bull’s lap where she could oversee the whole table and the ongoing game of dice.

The Bull hemmed:

“Are you finally up for a little adventure, dear?”

“Are you up for ploughing a cow?” retorted Elen, pouring herself a drink.

The mercenaries yelled, hooted, and roared with laughter.

The Iron Bull shrugged, unperturbed.

“I had to ask.”

“I had to answer. Who’s winning?”

“Grim, the lucky bastard. But, you, being our lucky mascot, are back, so I plan on turning favors of the fortune. Starting now!”

And he threw his dice.

Oddly enough, dice showed two sixes and a five.

“Wow! To our lucky mascot!” he roared, lifting his tankard. The rest followed suit.

“Then it’s my turn,” said Emhyr after everyone drank to the mascot. “Might get lucky too…”

But the dice showed two ones and a two.

“Damn it!” cried the Iron Bull louder than the Inquisitor. But then an idea came to him and he asked Elen something quietly into her ear. She grinned and nodded.

“A compensatory prize!’ he announced aloud, lifting his tankard. “Our belle Elen, our lucky charm, the apple of my eye will kiss the least fortunate player. And then she’ll go sleep with me,” he added jokingly.

Elen’s protests drowned in the fellows’ approving roar.

After the whole round it became obvious that the Inquisitor had the worst result.

So, in a cacophony of whistling, yelling, and lewd remarks, the Iron Bull put Elen in front of Emhyr and started cheering. His mercenaries went on yelling and whistling.

Elen looked into the Inquisitor’s eyes and suddenly turned away giggling.

“Sorry, Bull, I can’t…”

“But I can,” said Emhyr, took her face in his palms and kissed her at length, savoring her lips, the taste of apple cider on them, her excited breath and soft skin.

The crowd roared.

“Wow! Your Worship just upped the degree of coolness!” cried somebody, and the guys cheered:

“To his Worship! Yeah!”

The Qunari's smart eye evaluated the scene. The horned man grinned and cried:

“And now the mascot goes to Emhyr Sunenhelm, the Herald of Andraste!”

Now Emhyr had a perfectly legal excuse to hold Elen on his knees, and he used this excuse after having cast a private glance at the grinning Qunari.

“He’s one smart politician, that horned spy,” commented the Inquisitor so softly that only Elen could hear him. He arranged her appetizing buttocks on his thighs and took a swig of his drink.

“I wonder what he knows,” breathed Elen, hiding her face behind her cup.

“Oh, not much, but he is not blind,” answered Emhyr, nonchalantly throwing the dice.

Five-five-six.

“It’s working!” yelled the Bull and lifted his tankard for another toast.

And the overall glee continued.

When everybody was already sufficiently drunk, Emhyr took Elen by the hand, slipped into the backroom, and from there – to the service entrance leading to the loading dock.

There he stopped and looked into her face lit by the almost full moon.

Then he laughed, suddenly very acutely aware of all the ridiculousness of his position.

“Elen, I’m sorry we sneaked out like thieves,” he said shaking his head disapprovingly. “But lately, I had no opportunity to ask your opinion on whether you want to… spend more time with me, and whether it should be clandestine or in the open.”

Elen exhaled.

“Wow. I… don’t know what to say… It’s all been so screwed up lately…”

But Emhyr pressed on.

“How about another trip to Val Royeaux? With a masquerade and some such?”

Elen smiled.

“Sounds nice…”

The Inquisitor touched her cheek and leaned to kiss her but halted at the last moment.

“Damn it, can’t forget our last encounter. Each time I see you I just…”

She didn’t help him to end the sentence, instead she just stood there looking at him with a tiny mischievous glint in her eyes.

The Inquisitor sighed and finished:

“I just want to have you in my room, in my bed, with me.”

She smiled:

“In the open or secretly?”

“Up to you.”

“I disliked parading naked before your advisors.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“I like my freedom.”

“What you do outside the time with me is not of my concern.”

“Brave words. But who was running around the castle with peonies clenched in his fist just to check his suspicions?”

“I’m curious by nature.”

Elen laughed.

“Oh, if you say so, your lordship.”

Emhyr understood that to be with her was to be sincere.

When one grows up at a court – regardless Orlais, Tevinter, or Ostwick, – sincerity is the first thing to be suppressed. But he felt so stifled by his uncalled-for role of the savior and herald that he couldn’t live without an outlet of sincerity anymore.

“Yes, I had to know. I want to know more about you. And yes, I would wish to have you all to myself, but if I had to choose between having a part of you and not having you at all, I would choose the former. I feel so good around you…” he took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

The woman smiled. But then her face turned almost grim.

“Dorian mustn’t know.”

“All right, I’ll do my best. But may I know why?”

“He is… unpredictable. An unpredictable Tevinter mage with a crush on me. No one can be safe with this loose cannon… He is ready to bang me whenever he sees me.”

The Inquisitor winced and chuckled bitterly at the same time.

“That’s not only his desire. You are… very desirable…”

“That doesn’t mean anyone can have me any time they want. I’m a living being, after all.”

Emhyr nodded and rubbed his forehead.

“A secret then. Too bad, but it’s better than running around the castle looking for you at every scaffolding.”

“I never climb those. Well, almost never.”

“Good to know.”

“Kiss me already.”

“Gladly.”

It was a quiet afternoon in the Naughty Lolly, the girls had time for themselves, washing, chatting, sleeping, their madam poring over her ledgers.

Elen yawned and stretched. She loved the peaceful bustle around this time of day.

She was half-lying on a squashy plush couch in a cozy alcove and sipping aromatic herbal tea.

A redhead girl came in, smiling.

“How are you here, dear?”

Elen smiled.

“Divinely. Come along, sit here, if you will. What’s your name?”

“Asha.”

“I’m Elen. Are you from Ferelden?”

“It is that obvious, isn’t it?”

“It’s all right with me. How do you like the new draperies, Asha?”

The girl grinned happily.

“Oh, they’re awesome! So lush! I’ve been in the Denerim’s Pearl, and I must tell you Sanga was half as concerned about furniture as you are. And she was the owner!”

Elen laughed.

“Well, we can’t compete here with Orlais, but our Inquisition should have a decent place to relax…”

Their chat was interrupted by the entrance of none other than the Iron Bull.

The grey giant cast a glance of his sole eye about the place, and instantly detected Elen.

The expression of his face became unreadable. But Elen smiled to him warmly and beckoned to approach.

The redhead Asha instantly disappeared, having cast a trained seductive glance at the visitor. The latter appreciated her so thoroughly that his eye nearly popped out of his socket.

“Damn cute redhead!” he commented as he approached Elen.

“I was told you have a soft spot for red hair,” laughed the woman. “Have a seat, drink some tea with me. If you are not in a hurry.”

The Iron Bull sat near her, gingerly at first, then relaxed a bit.

Elen gave him her cup and poured some fresh tea from the teapot.

The Qunari was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, then cleared his throat and asked the woman:

“So… are you working here?”

Elen laughed.

“I was _waiting_ for you to ask that! Would you want me to work here?”

The Bull exhaled through his nostrils.

“You know, the Herald is my friend, and he’s taken with you. Very much so…”

The woman’s eyes glistened mischievously.

“I wasn’t asking about him, I asked you.”

The Iron Bull turned to her.

“Girl, I like you. Very much. But I wouldn’t cross my friend. And now I’m in a very difficult situation, because I’ll have to tell him that I’ve seen you here, and that will surely hurt him.”

Elen sighed.

“Poor Emhyr. He will be ravaged by jealousy but will suffer in silence, like a true gentleman,” she made a long pause then said, looking straight at the Bull: “Listen, dear. I’m a regular slut, not a professional. I come here because it’s quiet here, and it’s a place specifically designed for relaxation. I was going to offer madam Joy set up massage and spa services here, and I think it’s going to be very good for overall morale in Skyhold. Maybe we will even divide the establishment into something simple for soldiers and something more sophisticated for those wishing not just a quick shag. What do you say?”

The Iron Bull cleared his throat, his eye bright.

“Are you sure you’re not a witch, sweetie? 'Cause I had this fantasy of you making me a massage along with that redhead girl…”

Elen beamed.

“Wow, I like this image of yours. Care to share any others with me?”

The Iron Bull smacked his lips.

“How about you sit in my lap and I’ll whisper it into your ear?”

The woman laughed and started raising herself from the couch.

“Oh, it’s so indecent you cannot voice it out loud even in a brothel? I have to listen to this!”

And she straddled the giant and sat on his hips, her elbows on his shoulders.

His massive huge hands on her buttocks, he started whispering into her ear…

After a while she started breathing deeply and pressing herself harder to his torso, then their crotches began rubbing against one another, and then they started kissing.

Elen cursorily caressed his horns and thick neck before leaning back to look at him.

The Qunari used this opportunity to take hold of her breasts. The buttons on her dress popped open, and the grey man could finally gain access to her skin.

“Ah, you are so lovely,” he commented, caressing her and watching her moving her hips against the bulging fabric of his pants.

She took off his fly-piece and sighed, seeing the gigantic specimen of his penis:

“Oh my, this could be a problem, dear. It won’t fit… Mind if I call that redhead? And you’ll have your dream come true…”

The Qunari nodded, kissed her and whispered:

“Let me lick you, and you’ll have the time of your life. You’ll put your legs on my horns…”

Elen grinned.

“Wow. Every girl’s dream!... Asha! Dear, come here please!”

The redhead Asha was quick to appear for she most likely was eavesdropping on them.

She too made big eyes just seeing the Qunari’s instrument.

“Sweet Andraste!” she uttered, arranging herself in its close proximity…

But this afternoon hadn’t run out of surprises yet.

The door opened again, and Dorian strolled in, squinting as his eyes adjusted to low light of the parlor.

He quickly saw the Qunari’s bulk with the redhead stuck to his crotch, and a pair of nice feminine legs dangling from the horned giant’s shoulders.

The Tevinterian grinned crookedly and approached his colleague, laughing:

“So, the Herald was right when he said that I’d find you here. C’mon finish this off quick, we have to go, Sunenhelm and Blackwall are waiting by the gates…”

But then all color drained from his face and words glued to his throat as he saw the familiar pink dress behind the Qunari and familiar hands caressing the giant’s horns.

He rushed past the Bull to see Elen full front. She did not react to his appearance, fully immersed in her sensations.

Dorian dropped to his knees beside her, the look of pain and love mingled on his face into a mask of longing. Tentatively, he put his hand on her stomach. She looked at him and put her arm around his neck, caressing his hair with her delicate fingers.

“Oh my dear,” sighed the mage and leaned to kiss her on the lips. This time, she was fully accepting him and he gratefully kissed her, pouring all his accumulated love and craving onto her. He fondled all parts of her he could reach, never stopping to accommodate for his own pleasure, watching her, his eyes wide open, for every sign of pleasure or any other emotion passing through her face.

And when she started moaning loudly and panting, he just pressed his brow to her cheek and breathed with her in unison until she came. At the same moment he squeezed the front of his pants and jerked a few times spasmodically, moaning, relieving himself of the tension.

“Oh I love you so much,” he mumbled as he caressed her again, his face soft and shining with feeling. “A shame I have to go now…”

The Bull straightened up, disconnecting his wet face from Elen’s pussy, and instead concentrated on his own pleasure with the redhead.

Dorian instantly used this opportunity to put his palm onto her moist curly hairs on the crotch.

Then he put a finger inside her, then pulled it back and licked it.

“Mmmm, my sweet Eli. Did you have a good time here?”

Elen smiled tiredly and sighed.

“I was just hoping to have a quiet hour for tea and relaxation far from any of you, guys. Now I’ll have to find some nuns’ monastery to unwind myself. Just to be sure that no man can step inside its walls.”

Dorian laughed.

“It would be easier to find you there.”

Elen giggled.

“Just go already to your errands! Or do you want the Herald come looking for you?”

Dorian shrugged his shoulders indifferently. He undid his fly-piece and wiped himself clean with a napkin lying nearby on the table.

“Last I saw him he was busy talking to Cassandra. So, I guess he’s all set. What do you recon, is he banging her? The way she looks at him, all doe-eyed…”

Elen shrugged her shoulders and smiled.

“No idea. But I’ve seen your performance with Vivienne tonight and I must say I’m impressed. Why don’t you keep shagging her instead of chasing me, dear?”

Dorian laughed and caressed her body.

“I _will_ keep fucking her for a while, but it will never stop me from wanting you, my sweet pear.”

“Do you know that’s spooky?”

“Nah, just don’t think about it that way. Admit it, it’s flattering to have such a loyal and handsome man around, eh?”

She grinned.

“Oh sure, you are bright enough…”

“Aren’t we a good pair?”

“A pair? Never.”

She sat on the couch and kissed him.

“But I have to admit that you are one awesome brother…”

Dorian beamed and started kissing her all over. But a loud orchestra of grunts and moans from the Qunari indicated that their séance was over.

The mage sighed and adjusted his armor.

“Time to go. We’ll continue this nice little chat later.”

Elen waved to him and said:

“Take care and try not to get killed.”

*

Dorian stood in the clearing, waiting for the Herald to find access to a stone structure they’ve found an hour earlier.

He was bored. So was the Bull. But for some unfathomable reason, the Qunari wasn’t inclined to talk to him.

The Tevinterian made yet another attempt at striking a conversation.

“Does it go long between you two?”

The Iron Bull sighed, made sure that both Emhyr and Cassandra were out of earshot, and said reluctantly:

“A while.”

The mage stirred.

“And how do you like her?”

“She’s a peach.”

“And what…”

But the Qunari interrupted him sharply:

“Enough. I don’t want to talk about her.”

Dorian looked at him as if he was a madman.

“Whatever she’s done to you?”

The giant rumbled.

“It’s not her… It’s… complicated. Let’s just talk about the weather.”

The mage grinned.

“She loves falling snow…”

The Qunari looked at him in a very threatening manner.

“Stop it or I’ll crush your skull with my bare hands.”

The Tevinterian sighed and nodded.

“All right, all right, I get it.”

*

Emhyr watched Elen reading, seated in his study in a chair covered with a wolf fur cloak.

“Elen?”

“Yes, Emhyr?”

“Have you seen Dorian lately?”

“Yes, why?”

The Inquisitor paused, trying to put his finger on it.

“Something odd went on between him and the Bull yesterday… Usually, they banter ceaselessly like two magpies all day long, but yesterday… Dorian seemed agitated and the Bull just wanted him to shut up. The Qunari seemed… not himself. As well as the mage. Very odd.”

Elen shrugged.

“Did you try to ask them?”

Emhyr sighed.

“Sure. But I can’t recall their answer… The Bull just mumbled something, and Dorian said… something about the brothel… Probably one of his dirty jokes…”

The woman sighed and put her book away.

“Look, if something’s wrong with the guys, some bad blood, I can go talk to them…”

Emhyr glanced at her sideways.

“Would you do that? I mean you try to avoid Dorian, so it probably could be a stress to you?”

Elen stretched leisurely.

“Bah, there are times when he is as good as gold. It’s when I start avoiding him too much he gets cranky.”

Emhyr frowned, his quick mind already restless. He ventured:

“There is a small grove outside the Skyhold, do you know of it…?”

“No. What’s there?”

“A very clandestine place if you want one…”

She shrugged.

“Your quarters seem private enough… What about your advisors? Have they dropped their habit of rushing in?”

The man laughed mirthlessly and rubbed his face with his palm. He could only amaze at how effortlessly he was steered away from the subject of Dorian.

“Oh, them! Apparently, my politeness went way up to their heads and they act like… if they owned me.”

Elen giggled.

“Serves you right. Your convoluted language can be very misleading. So, are they stalking you now?”

“Oh, Josie goes pale, stutters, and avoids my eyes, Leliana acts like the spirit of wounded virtue, and Cassandra gives me those doe-eyed stares when she thinks I cannot see… Well, you asked…”

Elen stood up and put her arms akimbo.

“You want me to believe that you wouldn’t bang any of them when they are practically giving themselves to you?”

Emhyr raised his brows.

“Well, I guess that’s not the issue. They all want me to have some special feelings for them. Which I’m not ready to give them.”

The woman giggled and tossed about her beautiful long hair.

“You are too serious about that,” she spread her arms wide apart. “Can't you just love all women?”

Emhyr laughed.

“Oh, that would be… I don’t know…”

She laughed.

“It would be splendid! You already do that through your compliments and flirt. Just let yourself be how you want to be. And bugger the rules!”

Emhyr stood up, laughing.

“Aha, so bugger the rules? Are you ready for that?”

Elen beamed.

“Always!”

*

Dorian was sitting in the tavern, drinking in the company of the whole Inquisition squad, when a masked Orlesian merchant came to him and asked to follow her in a heavily accented whisper. The mage shrugged his shoulders and asked in return:

“And why would I leave an agreeable company, milady?”

The merchant sighed and said in the same whisper:

“I was told that there is a night performance at the Naughty Lolly tonight…”

Dorian raised his brow.

“The Naughty Lolly? Well, maybe I’ll check on it later…”

“You may invite all your friends there…”

The mage squinted at her.

“Then why are you telling me this secretly?”

The mask shrugged.

“This is a decent place, and I would not wish to be ousted out of here for publicly offering something less… ah… decent.”

Dorian grinned.

“All right, I’ll go. Thanks for the invitation.”

If he would see Leliana at that moment, he would notice a glimpse of satisfaction flashing upon her face. But he did not. Instead, the Inquisitor was looking her way and caught this strange emotion in his advisor's eyes. He followed her stare and saw both Dorian and the masked Orlesian merchant.

When the merchant departed, Emhyr nonchalantly approached the mage and asked him quietly:

“What was that all about?”

The Tevinterian just shrugged his shoulders derogatorily.

“A brothel solicitor. Invited us all to the Naughty Lolly tonight, said there would be a performance.”

Emhyr nodded.

“Dorian, listen. Could you please find Elen? For I have a feeling that one of my charming advisors started a game against her. I want to be sure…”

The mage nodded gravely and stood up.

“What is it with you and Elen?” he asked in a controlled tone.

The Inquisitor shrugged his shoulders and answered calmly:

“I like her. But she seems to prefer our Qunari.”

Dorian shook his head.

“No. My gut tells me this is some kind of hoax. The Bull goes always defensive about you and Elen, Elen is demonstratively twisting his horns, and now you go the same way… So, _I_ think that it’s _you_ who are having an affair with my little sis and the Bull is just the front-man for the show. Anyway, I appreciate that you care for her. Now excuse me, I’ll go find her.”

And he left, leaving the Inquisitor alarmed. The man quickly reflected over the situation and followed the mage out of the tavern.

“Where are you planning to look for her?” Emhyr asked matter-of-factly, catching up with the mage.

Dorian snickered and mumbled:

“The brothel, of course. If it’s a trap, then I’m sure I’ll find her in some perverse company. If the trap is meant for you, then there’ll be public. Either way, I think this is all about tramping on her reputation… I go ballistic, an instant scandal, and snap! She is out of here, packing…”

“Damn!” Emhyr stopped in his tracks. “Of course. And my dear spy decided to act through you so that you become her leash… Clever girl. Dorian, let’s not rush in. Let’s think about it, maybe we can outwit her…”

The mage turned to him and the Inquisitor saw his feverishly bright eyes.

“Listen, Herald, my El is a very lovable person. She is liked throughout the Skyhold by both men and women alike. If the word gets out about her fancy love affairs, the people will tend to forgive her. Unless they will be told that by her actions, she will hurt _you_. So, if you go there with me and see something you aren’t prepared to witness, you will _bury_ her. By the Bull’s prancing around you and by the setting of this trap I can tell that both the Bull and your spymaster know you as a man who would not tolerate any frivolity from a loved one. Now you must tell me. Is that so?”

Emhyr hold his stare steadily and replied, keeping his eyes straight on the mage, no single muscle flinching on his face:

“I would forgive her anything.”

Dorian kept staring at him, but nodded solemnly:

“Good to know. For only your reaction may destroy the plot.”

“Are we ready to go?”

“I’m ready when you are ready.”

“Let’s go.”

On their way there, Emhyr asked:

“Could you tell me about her?”

Dorian laughed bitterly.

“I could talk about her for hours. But if you want to know something about her, better ask her directly. Other than that, she was born to my family’s best friends, and we were promised to each other. But after a few years it became clear that she did not possess any magical abilities and thus our marriage was cancelled. Still, we grew up together, and I refused to take a proper wife, which made me a pariah and an unwanted son. Elen has always been a free wind, and her ‘defect’ – in the eyes of our parents – made her absolutely unrestricted in anything she wanted to do with her life, instead of confining her within four walls as a good wife and mother. So, she’s been traveling all around Thedas ever since she became adult. That’s about all background I can safely share without her yelling afterwards at me.”

“Thanks, Dorian. So, she’s a daughter of some magister?”

“Yes. One of the most powerful ones. She’s always been loved by her parents, but politically, she’s of no value to her family… But to me… you know, in Tevinter, there are tiny pear-shaped fruits, pink-golden in hue, they appear at the center of beautiful flowers once they bloom. They are very rare and cost their weight in gold, for they are the ultimate medicine for the pain of the broken heart. They heal the soul… So my Elen is such a pear to me. She heals me.”

Before entering the door to the Naughty Lolly, Dorian turned to the Inquisitor.

“I… again, I appreciate that you care about her.”

Emhyr nodded but said nothing. He grew a little tense.

The mage saw this and shook his head.

“Are you sure you can handle this?”

The Inquisitor sighed.

“By her free manners, I always had a suspicion that she was a courtesan.”

The mage shook his head negatively.

“You have it the wrong way. She’s never been a working girl. It is just her way of exploring herself and the world, which can be viewed a bit controversially throughout our society. Plus, she said that some brothels relax her. She would explain this better… Seems she gets tired of men sometimes…”

They opened the door and were instantly ushered into the backroom, where a podium was installed and countless candles were lit.

Many people stood around it, their breath hard, but when they saw the Herald and his acolyte, they moved to make space for them.

And finally, Emhyr saw what they were watching. Two young women sat on the podium, making love to each other. One of them was Elen.

Her nudity was perfect, warmed up by candlelight and kisses of her redhead partner.

When they finished their performance, they took silk robes lying beside them, put them on, and, giggling, disappeared into a backdoor. Several cocottes came to mingle with the guests, promising them a sweet relief.

Emhyr shook his head.

“I… I must admit that this is not as bad as I thought it would be…”

Dorian looked at him and whispered:

“I suggest we now direct our attentions to some professionals…”

The Inquisitor cleared his throat and nodded.

“Good idea.”

Asha was excited.

“Did you see?! The Herald of Andraste was there in person! And that cute Tevinter mage was with him… Do you think they are involved? There are rumors already, and not just in the castle…”

Elen laughed, measuring herbs into the teapot.

“Oh, do tell!”

The redhead was only too pleased to oblige.

“One of the revered mothers told me the other day that when she was passing by the Seeker Cassandra, the latter was practically destroying the dummy and crying: ‘Get it, you fuckin' faggots!’ And when mother Esmi asked her what it was about, and lady Cassandra told her: ‘There are too many faggots in our ranks, leaving our women all alone!’”

Elen snickered.

“The way the Naughty Lolly is crowded every night, I doubt that is completely true… But she wasn’t specific about the Herald and Dorian, was she?”

Asha shook her head doubtfully. She wanted so much to share some exciting scandal but there wasn’t much she could go on with. She made another attempt:

“But she said ‘in our ranks,’ so who else could it be? She’s always in the company of the Herald, and the Herald chooses the Tevinterian as a companion much too often!”

Elen shrugged and poured some hot water into the teapot.

“Maybe Dorian just has the right set of skills.”

“Uh, yeah, my arse! He’s always choosing the Tevinterian, the Qunari, and that dyke Cassandra because nobody in his right mind would see her as a woman.”

Elen smiled.

“Well, I would choose the same, because they are pretty good fighters. And out there, it’s much more important to stay alive than to look cute and lovable,” then she changed her tone and added peacefully: “But maybe there is some truth to the gossip, and you’re right...”

“You bet I am!...”

They were interrupted by a bird in a bright fuchsia dress that burst in with excited squeals:

“Girls, girls! Do you know that after your performance the Herald took Alicia upstairs?! And that Tevinterian friend of his took Magenta! So maybe they are not just fruits, but switch hitters?... Oh wow, what a night! Madam Joy even mumbled that you bring in so much clientele with your wild ideas that she will have to share profits with you one day!”

Elen laughed.

“I wouldn’t wait for that day to come any time soon. Madam Joy would strangle herself first before sharing a copper. I don’t care as long as she allows me to experiment and have my fun free of charge… I love your dress, Cambria.”

The brunette Cambria beamed.

“It’s my best one! I can give it to you for a couple of days if you give me your blue one.”

Elen smiled.

“It’s a deal.”

Leliana was fervently praying by her Andraste altar when she heard some footsteps and then a creaking sound of a wooden chair. She turned. The Inquisitor was sitting by her table, nonchalantly perusing papers. The spymaster rose to her feet and walked over to him.

“Your Worship,” she bowed slightly and stood there, waiting for him to say something.

Emhyr took his sweet time reading some report. Then asked lightly, his eyes still on the letter:

“Slept well, my dear spymaster?”

Then he looked at her with his clear lucid eyes that pierced right through her.

Leliana sighed and took in a long breath.

“Actually, no, your Worship. Your appearance at the local brothel brought much of unwanted attention to your private life and intimate habits. In short, we are having a full-blown scandal on our hands. Soon, all of Val Royeaux will learn of your indecent behavior and we’ll have a mayhem of far-reaching consequences to deal with. I expect some difficulties with acquiring new alliances and dealing with existing ones… Both Val Royeaux, as well as Qarinus are used to dealing with stories about who slept with whom, slaves and elves being practically of no consequence, but nobody does it in the open! Especially in brothels! This is a disaster to your reputation as the Herald of Andraste!! How could you do such a thing!!! Didn’t you think at all about what it would bring on our heads?!!!”

Emhyr’s cold stare indicated that he was unimpressed by her speech.

“You’d prefer a small scandal of me entering the den of vice, seeing that poor girl Elen in the arms of… whoever, casting her away in a fit of righteous wrath and walk away nursing my wounded pride? That was the little scheme you concocted with that sick little Josie friend of yours? Or was there a hope to drag Dorian through dirt, him being an ill-fitting Tevinterian with strange behavior? A public display of jealousy ruining both of them? And making them both unwanted here and inaccessible to me?”

Leliana’s face grew blank.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Yes, you do. Tell you what, my dear spymaster. If you continue on this course of setting me straight, I will not only publicly fuck every whore in every brothel in Thedas, I will thoroughly ruin your and your little friend’s reputation in the eyes of both our alliances and your colleagues alike. And to hell with consequences. I don’t need my own people behaving like Orlesian court harlots, plotting behind my back. If you cannot be professionals and keep behaving like quarrelsome women, the women you’ll stay, but I’ll find some other professionals.”

He stood up and nodded to her.

“Good day.”

“She’s so lovely when she’s sleeping,” whispered Dorian, as he saw Elen in Emhyr’s bed upon entering the latter’s quarters.

It was early morning; the dawn was barely coloring the sky.

The Inquisitor rubbed his face.

“I clearly remember locking the door last night. What are you doing here?”

The mage covered the rest of the stairs and Emhyr saw that the Tevinterian was clad in his full combat gear.

Dorian whispered:

“Cassandra woke me up an hour ago and asked to wake you up. She seems to be under the impression that we are lovers with you. Looks like this gossip is spread on purpose. Anyway, there is a situation on the western pass, a huge rift in a mountain lake, of all places, and the fishermen village is overflowing with demons.”

The Inquisitor sighed and carefully disengaged from the sleeping woman.

“Just give me ten minutes.”

He rose from the bed and quietly went to the wardrobe.

While he was removing his gear from the shelves, the mage slipped to the bed and lay beside Elen. He listened to her deep breath and smiled.

“Never ceases to amaze me. I just love listening to her breathing…”

Emhyr turned around and frowned slightly, seeing the Tevinterian in his bed.

“Get out of there,” he grumbled none too aggressively, busy with his boots.

The mage couldn’t care less about the order and arranged himself even more comfortably, hugging the sleeping woman.

“Ah, I miss so much being in bed with my sweet pear,” he sighed as he stroked her cheek. “Sometimes she sleeps with her mouth open, and it used to excite me so much that I started fantasizing. And by the time she woke up I was horny like a nug.”

Emhyr grinned in spite of himself and approached the bed. Looked at the peaceful image of the sleeping woman and her brother coddling her with a blissful smile across his face. Carefully, he lay on the other side of bed, feeling an unexpected bout of playful tenderness.

“It’s amazing… She sleeps like a baby…”

Dorian smiled, his eyes shining like stars.

“So you come to understand…” he caressed her cheek and kissed her tenderly. Then, out of the blue, he said: “The Bull acts oddly because he just fondled Eli a bit.”

“Ah!” Emhyr rolled his head back in surprise. He fell silent for a moment, mulling over the news, then grumbled: “A good start for a new day. Oh Maker, whatever have I done to you?”

He heard a sigh. Then, lowering his head, he saw Elen’s eyes open. She was slowly coming to her senses. Then she licked her lips and cleared her throat.

“Um… guys?... I thought it was too cozy to continue sleeping… My dear boys…”

She fondled both their heads, ruffling their hair and smiled.

“So good to wake up in such company!”

Then she looked into their faces and grumbled, playfully annoyed:

“Gossiping already? So early? Bad, bad boys…”

Then she paid attention to their clothes.

“Armor already? Oh Maker, another emergency?”

Emhyr nodded, stood up and resumed putting on his armor and weapons.

“We are here just for a spell to bid you a good morning, my dear,” crooned Dorian, kissing her on the temple.

She sighed.

“A pity. Be careful.”

The Inquisitor was resolutely strolling down the hall, Dorian at his heels. Cassandra perked up, seeing them, her face smooth. Other companions stood by the entrance, at the ready.

“Sera, Blackwall, and Cole are left here to hold the fort, Vivienne, you too. All the rest, let’s get going.”

Solas, the Iron Bull, and Varric nodded and lifted their weapons from the floor. They were grim and resolute.

While they were planning the operation, Elen appeared on the steps to the main hall, wrapped in a warm shawl, yawning.

The Bull grinned at her.

“'Morning, sunshine. What are you doin' 'ere so early?”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“How can anyone sleep when you are producing such a racket?”

The Qunari laughed.

“Sorry dear. A bad affair. A scout’s crow brought the news…”

Cassandra interrupted him, not looking at Elen.

“Let’s go, no time for chitchat.”

The Iron Bull nodded to her, waved to Elen and followed the leaving company.

Several days passed, and there was still no news about the Herald and his fellows. The whole Skyhold was in a state of anxious suspense. Prolonged rainfall added to the overall gloom.

Only Elen seemed unaffected by the general dismal mood. She continued caring for the citadel and cheering up its inhabitants.

Once, the ambassador Josephine met her in her own quarters.

“What are you doing here?!” asked the Antivan indignantly.

Elen smiled.

“Why, I visit all living quarters to make sure they are well supplied.”

Josephine crossed her arms at her chest and asked coldly:

“Isn’t it a maid’s work?”

Elen did not seem offended.

“A maid would not care if you run out of your favorite snacking seeds or that costly perfume of yours.”

The ambassador seemed moved.

“Oh!... I had no idea…”

Unperturbed, Elen continued:

“And there was a nasty draught coming from a broken window pane over there. Now it’s fixed. Also, one of your lovely slippers lost a heelpiece that probably made you hobble a bit. With large repairs out of my immediate list, I can make lives of the Inquisition people a bit more comfortable.”

Josephine listened to her, not believing her ears.

“And you do it for everyone?”

Elen shrugged her shoulders.

“I wouldn’t possibly be able to provide for everybody in this huge place. But I have a few helpers, and we do the best we can.”

The ambassador was standing there dumbfounded, unable to comprehend.

“But why? Why go to such extent?”

Elen laughed.

“Oh, don’t think I’m going out of my way. I just do whatever I feel comfortable doing. But if you go all day long dealing with some unsavory nobles or repugnant types from the Chantry, I’m only too happy if I can do something for you to sweeten your deal. A warm bed and a glass of warm milk with a cookie nearby isn’t such a hard feat to perform.”

Josephine caught herself slack-jawed.

“But… but… I mistreated you! Many of us did!”

Elen laughed, carefree.

“Oh, you have no notion of real mistreat! I know how it feels to have a crush and be ignored. To be lead on and then abandoned. It hurts. I know it does. So, no hard feelings.”

The Antivan broke in tears and rushed to hug the woman.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!” she gulped and looked her in the eyes. “But what about you? All this care for others…”

“You mean do I watch out for myself? Of course I do. Best of all. One day, I will show you my little lair, if you want to… And now, if you do not have any requests, I’ll be on my way…”

The rational mind of the Ambassador finally kicked in.

“Wait… do you warm all beds in the castle? It would be impossible for one person…”

Elen smiled slyly.

“I do it in the best way I know of: I organize and share ideas. And occasionally monitor the performance. I come to the quarters and look for things to be done. If I can do it myself, I do it, or I assign someone who can. Then I check the result. That’s all.”

Josephine stood there mulling over the information.

Elen smiled.

“Good day to you, milady.”

*

Elen was sitting in the elven dining hall, munching on a dry biscuit, washing it down with a glass of strange elven herbal fruity drink and swinging her legs. The stern First Maid Annariael was sitting in front of her and sewing a linen cap with tiny stitches.

“So, what do you reckon,” she asked Elen, “will they break up or remain together?”

The woman shrugged.

“No idea. They’ve always been so good to each other. But Mariel grew up while Kariel remained the same he’s been for the last ten years. She needs someone more mature…”

Annariael sighed and nodded.

“That’s the worst of it. Men do not change as much as women do over time. When my Romuel, bless his soul, decided that he wanted to go live with the Dalish, it was as if he just returned to his teenage days. Silly old lecher… The bear he encountered never minded the rebellious old fool and just snapped him in half…”

“Oh poor man!”

The First Maid shook her head disapprovingly.

“That’s his…”

But they were interrupted by a tumult coming from the entrance to the mess hall.

Several servants darted to side passages in such a hurry that they knocked a few others off their feet.

Someone mumbled "they've returned!" and the phrase instantly caught with all others. The elves jumped up from the tables and hurried upstairs to the corridor leading outside.

Annariael, cloth-eared, turned her head both ways to understand what was the reason of the commotion, then caught a passing by young elf.

“Waxel, what’s going on?”

“The Herald arrived, barely alive! They are all mangled!”

The two women exchanged worried glances, tossed their affairs on the table and hurried to join the rest of servants.

In the courtyard, there was a huge crowd clinging to all windows of the infirmary. People exchanged theories and gossip, and retold what the lucky window-gawkers had told them.

From all that talk one could gather that the crew closed the rift just barely, for the demons they had to fight proved to be formidable adversaries. The fishermen village evacuated, the Inquisition had no support on the spot, both their mages in pieces, so they had to hurry to the headquarters for treatment.

It went on for a few hours, until Vivienne came out of the building and loudly announced that the worst of it was over and that now the company needed a sound rest.

“So the best thing how you can help now is vacate the courtyard at once!” she barked in a no-nonsense tone.

The crowd started to dissipate.

Annariael looked at Elen.

“What do you reckon, should you go visit them?”

Elen sighed and shook her head.

“They need a rest first.”

But her pink dress was highly visible, and Vivienne spotted her. She called her and beckoned to come closer.

“Your brother has been asking for you ever since he came to his senses. The Inquisitor is still unconscious, but he would be happy to see you as well. Come now, and do not tell Cullen that I let you in, or he'll wail like a banshee.”

Elen nodded, cast one last glance at the First Maid, and went inside.

The sight of her friends’ injured bodies along with the stench of rotten wounds hit her almost physically.

Emhyr’s ashen face was nearly merging with the color of his pillow, his brown hair dirty and wet, plastered on his clammy forehead.

Solas was rolled upon himself, clutching at his stomach and moaning through his clenched teeth.

Varric, Cassandra, and the Iron Bull were sleeping, apparently drugged. Dorian was the only one wide awake.

He instantly saw Elen by the door and relaxed a bit.

A nurse came to the woman and said to her:

“He kept asking for a sweet pear. Do you know what that is?”

Elen frowned.

“A medicinal plant in Tevinter,” and she went to the mage.

He looked no better than his friends but tried to smile.

“There you are, my sweet pear!”

Elen sighed as she sat beside him on the bed.

“You stupid, stupid man! How could you be so stupid?! Look at you!...”

His bluish lips formed a smile.

“I knew you’d care!” he whispered on the verge of losing consciousness.

Elen kissed him and stroked his head.

“Now that I’m here beside you, you can rest, dear.”

First thing, she opened windows to chase away the awful smell. Then she started ordering about, and soon the infirmary transformed into a clean, sweet-smelling room, and the sleeping patients were washed, changed, and lay in pristine beds.

She sighed with satisfaction, blew off most of the light and lay on a spare bed. Another nurse took her post at the other side of the room, and Vivienne sat in a chair in the middle of it.

The waiting began.

Dorian was the first to awaken, and he asked for water. As soon as Elen came into his view with a cup of water, he attempted to joke.

“I should exploit your soft-heartedness more often! And you’d be always at my side.”

The woman snickered.

“Just you wait until one day I finish you off!”

The mage made a pleading face.

“I need your tit to recover.”

Elen rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Again? We are not fifteen, remember? And it was just once when you had very high fever.”

The mage sighed.

“So being stabbed through my chest by a rage demon does not count? A collapsed lung does not count? Barely making it here does not count?”

Elen sighed in despair.

“And you want me to expose my breasts in front of all the people?”

Dorian’s hands started to flicker with red light, a buzzing sound filled the room, and all the present people, both patients and nurses alike, suddenly dropped into a deep sleep.

Elen turned around and quietly said:

“That’s blood magic, you know.”

The mage shrugged.

“So what, as long as you agree to give me your tits.”

The woman sighed, lay beside him and unbuttoned her dress.

“Here, have fun.”

Dorian started to caress and suck her breast, and soon she felt her breath quicken…

In just three days, thanks to the intensive care by Vivienne and the best alchemists in the area, the whole team recovered nicely.

Emhyr remained the only patient on the account of his dealing with the rift.

When he opened his eyes, he was alone in the room and he drifted back to sleep.

Then he awoke having heard a creaking nearby.

Elen stood there on her tiptoes, a vase with fresh flowers in her hand.

She exhaled.

“I was afraid to wake you up.”

Emhyr smiled to her and felt so carefree he didn’t feel since childhood.

He took her by the arm and pulled to sit beside him.

“Elen.”

“Yes, Emhyr.”

They sat motionlessly in bed for a long time, her hand in his hand, both feeling as their connection deepened.

“I love you,” he said matter-of-factly and kissed the knuckles on her hand. “Always did but just couldn’t accept it.”

Elen sighed. She wanted to say something but lingered.

Emhyr stroked her cheek.

“You don’t need to say anything.”

She quietly lay beside him, her head on his shoulder, an arm on his chest. He exuded some kind of peaceful, kind strength that made her feel very secure. It felt so good beside him.

“Emhyr?”

“Yes, Elen.”

“We need to do something about Dorian.”

“Why, he seems docile enough…”

“There are already tale-telling signs that this can turn into another nightmare.”

Emhyr sighed.

“You know him better, so what should we do?”

Elen shook her head.

“I love him dearly, but I never knew how to handle him when he is like this. He’s like those alcoholics – he just can’t be normal when I’m around. It’s already spiraling out of hand – he already used blood magic once. He can be reasoned with only outside his madness. Maybe your friend Cole could say something on the matter?”

Emhyr nodded.

“I'll talk to him.”

Out of the blue, a voice said:

“Damaged, he is.”

Elen shivered.

Cole appeared out of thin air and went to them.

“Your friend is not whole, and he cannot be helped unless he seeks help himself.”

The woman nodded.

“But what should I do?”

Cole’s blank voice was implacable:

“Run. Hide. Disappear. That is his only cure.”

Emhyr frowned.

“That’s hardly an option.”

*

Emhyr stood near the edge of the pool and tried to hear his gut feeling. This was one of those tough decisions he had to make as the Inquisitor.

He tried to picture Elen beside him for he was content with his decisions the most when she was around, as if she was his voice of consciousness somehow…

*

Elen was sitting on top of a fortification and did nothing. Her head was empty of thoughts, and her heart was devoid of desires, and it felt good. She was taking in the scenery, the smells, the frosty air.

It was a moment of mirthful bliss.

Unexpectedly, a thought occurred to her that it would be good to move to Val Royeaux and take some wealthy duke for lover, who would treat her kindly, taking pleasure in her company rather than try to steal her heart. A light and pleasurable partnership, no more. Away from the dear Dorian’s folly, away from the Inquisitor’s status complications…

She sighed. If only Emhyr was that Orlesian Duke, or a mere Ostwick noble playboy, far detached from all this "save the world" stuff and everything it entailed. A little wicked, capricious and sweet…

So it was decided. She would go to Val Royeaux. Would she give herself time to reconsider? Of course. But after she’d pack her belongings.

With a springy step, she left the fortification and went packing. A few dresses and lingerie items, footwear, a scarf, mittens, a pocketful of gold, and she was ready to go.

She looked at the backpack and tried to catch the feeling it produced. It was a good one.

She cast one last glance at the citadel. Now it was mainly repaired, all living quarters supplied reasonably enough, all people taken care of.

Elen strolled to the blacksmith, late with his chores at his forge.

“Hey Marv,” she greeted him with a smile.

He scoped her attire and her backpack.

“Goin' somewhere at this hour?”

She nodded.

“Leaving, actually. I’m not especially needed here anymore. So I’m heading for some warmer climes.”

The smith shook his head.

“That’s sad. Need anything passed to your buddies?”

“Just goodbyes. No hard feelings or anything.”

Marv looked at her carefully.

“No forwarding address or anything, just in case, ya'know…?”

Elen shrugged her shoulders.

“Can’t tell you exactly, for I don’t know it myself yet.”

Emhyr stood before Marv the blacksmith dumbstruck. All cheers just faded from his ears in a flash.

“What do you mean she left?!”

“Well, your Worship, I can’t tell you fer sure…she just said that her work here at Skyhold was mainly done and that she intended to move for warmer climes… I doubt she knew you went fighting Corypheus…”

The Inquisitor brushed aside the last comment, for it seemed irrelevant now.

“When?”

Marv answered readily:

“About a month ago. But there was little news at the time from your company…”

Emhyr did not hear the smith’s last words for he stormed out of the forge, thinking fast.

His frenetic gaze lingered on an Orlesian merchant idling near his station.

“How much for your mask?” Emhyr asked, keeping his impatience out of his voice as best he could.

The merchant did not answer at once, and the Inquisitor pressed gently:

“I just want to make a nice surprise, please indulge me.”

The merchant sighed and took off his mask.

“On the house, your Worship. I wouldn’t have it any other way, after you saved us all…”

*

After the mysterious disappearance of the Inquisitor, a new count appeared at Val Royeaux. He was proficient enough at the Game to quickly gain access to most good parties in the city.

The count Sunenhelm proved to be very sociable, as he did his best to get acquainted with everybody from lowly servants to the queen’s entourage.

And soon, his perseverance paid up. One warm summer evening, at one of the lavish parties of the duke de Montrecourt, he heard a familiar laughter. The duke was entertaining his new mistress, a fair lady with golden hair, in a milky-white dress and blue mask.

Emhyr Sunenhelm turned sharply and studied her from afar. She was stunning, gorgeous, dazzling, and ultimately lovely. And she seemed happy.

Emhyr bit his lip, trying to contain mounting bitterness, and went to present himself to the duke and his companion.

A tall broad-shouldered young count bowed elegantly before them, and her patron indulged the man with his attention.

The count’s voice was quiet and hoarse. "Drank too much cold champagne", he apologized. They laughed, exchanged a few pleasantries and compliments before the count invited the elegant mistress to a dance.

As he took her by her waist and her hand, she inhaled sharply, for something suddenly stirred in her.

He asked:

“Are you all right, milady? Did I grip you too tightly?”

She smiled.

“No, your excellence. I just was left breathless with your dashing grasp. There are very few militaries at the court, and they are very valued…”

“You think I’m a military man?”

“It shows…”

“You’re quite observant, milady. What else could you tell about me?”

She smiled slightly, this time perturbed. She felt a wave of attraction wash over her. This man made her lose her head.

“Not at this time, your excellence.”

Her dance partner skillfully turned her around him a few times and took her by the waist again.

“What would it cost me to invite you to my place?” he asked suddenly.

The duke’s mistress shivered, then got a hold on herself and answered charmingly:

“Why, you’d have to kill the duke, of course.”

The count laughed.

“Where are my manners! Your graces make me lose my head, milady.”

She shuddered. It was if he read her thoughts.

“Your excellence, forgive me, for I have to take some fresh air now.”

She bowed and left for the balcony, where the duke was chatting with a couple of his guests.

“…and nobody still knows where he’s gone? That’s quite disastrous for the queen…”

“Of course not. All his acolytes are still running Skyhold, they’ve developed such ties all over Thedas that it would take a miracle now to dislodge them. The Inquisition is a power to be reckoned with nowadays…”

The duke turned to his mistress.

“Ah, ma chérie, there you are! Did you have a good dance?”

She smiled.

“Lovely. The count is a skillful dancer.”

The duke nodded.

“He is new to Val Royeaux, but I must admit the man knows a thing or two about the Game. I thought of inviting him to my small palazzo on the lagoon for this weekend. I thought he’d be entertaining…What do you think of it, my lovely dear?”

His mistress bowed.

“You have excellent taste for guests, my darling.”

Emhyr wasted no time and used that week to learn as much as he could about the duke and his new acquisition.

Turned out that no one knew for sure the provenance of the lady, and her name – Varga – did not ring a bell. But he was sure it was Elen.

He never paused to think of what he would do once he met her again or whether he would reveal himself. He felt angry, hurt and utterly lost, but prepared to do anything to have another chance with her.

Suddenly, he remembered Dorian and his attitude toward Elen. And shuddered. Would he become like the mad mage, infatuated with this woman, prepared to do anything to have her back?

Emhyr sighed. First, he wanted to make sure that Elen staying with the duke was her free choice and that she was happy… He felt that he needed her explanation for closure. After all, he wasn’t there when she made the decision, nor did he know the circumstances. Maybe that was her reaction to Cole’s urging to flee… He had to know.

The week was worrisome for other parties concerned, as well. The duke was busy with preparations, and his mistress could not find the same amusement in the marketplace and its countless boutiques.

On Friday, she mounted the stairs to a terrace and gingerly sat under a huge parasol of a sea-view café.

The weather was sunny, the breeze gentle, and the cries of gulls as piercing as ever.

She was so lost in thought that she did not see another customer near her.

“What a nice surprise, the precious lady Varga in person!” she heard a familiar rolling baritone in a light social manner.

She shivered and turned to meet the count’s mask. In the dark of the mask’s eye slits, familiar clear eyes glistened.

She froze in place, feeling naked even under her own mask.

This time, she did not even answer, her throat locked with emotion, her breath heavy. She feared he would be cruel to her, rightfully so.

But it seemed he did not decide yet on how to conduct himself.

“Seems this café is not only _my_ favorite,” he resumed calmly. “A lovely view, to be sure. What brings you here, milady? The cool shade? The view? The fragrant coffee?”

She was still silent. She mused that the best thing she could do now was to hug and kiss him with full ardor she was feeling, and to hell with the consequences. And yet she did not budge.

“Would you allow me to join you at the table?” his politeness was killing her the most.

After she nodded, the count sat across the table and ordered the waiter a coffee. After the latter left, the man continued coolly:

“Right now, I’m torn apart by the desire to rip your dress to pieces and fuck you right here on this table, and throwing myself into the lagoon. I was beyond myself with grief when I heard that you left. Without even telling me, nor allowing me to partake in the decision. I had a thousand questions on my mind, none of which had a shred of answer. Did you leave because of Dorian? Because of me? Because of the silly politics? Because you got bored with the drama? What was it, woman?! I was prepared to storm the Fade itself just to bring you back...!” he paused. “I abandoned Skyhold and searched for traces of you like a hound, until I thought about Val Royeaux as my best bet… Weeks of bowing and scraping in front of all these empty faces… All this, to ask you one question. One question only…Why. Why did you do it? I need to know. If you are happy here, if this is what you want, then… I’ll leave you in peace. I don’t want to become another Dorian. But I need closure, and I hope you can provide me with one. At least I think I’ve earned it.”

She cried now, but the mask did not allow Emhyr to see it. It was only when she sniffed involuntarily, did he see two wet lines on her neck and made a move to stand up and touch her.

But she gestured him to stay in place, as the waiter was nearing them with the ordered coffee.

The lad was tremendously curious about what was going on between these two but was firmly ordered by the man to return to his station.

The sound of the man’s voice was so commanding that the waiter did not even think to disobey and removed himself from view at once.

They both felt a great need to touch one another but it would be impossible to do so in front of Orlesians without some bad consequences.

Elen made her best to take back possession of her voice again and said very quietly:

“Orlesians are libertines, and yet I’m watched over day and night, so I doubt we could talk in more privacy than we do now… So… To answer you why… I know Dorian, and it was high time for me to flee him. I had a nightmare of you dancing to his blood magic… It would be horrible. Hence, I decided that an idle life in the masked city is better than the imminent doom of his folly. He would’ve destroyed you in the end and made me do something horrible with your body…” she shivered. “Once… no. I’ll never evoke it again. Just believe me, it was the best thing I could do. And I just hope that your sincere grief convinced him that you were genuinely ignorant of my whereabouts… But if you found me… means he could follow you… I’m sorry.”

Emhyr bit his lip, thinking hard.

“So what do you intend to do now?” he asked at last.

“Flee again.”

“No. This is no use,” he paused. “And unless you feel nothing for me, never flee me again. Please.”

She inclined her head, but he could not see her expression.

“Damned masks!” he uttered under his breath. “We’ll meet tomorrow, and in the meantime I’ll try to think of a solution… Just don’t do anything rash.”

She shook her head.

“There’s no countering blood magic.”

“I’ll have to see that for myself. At least my pocket rift is still with me. Shame that Solas disappeared…”


End file.
